


War on the HOA

by Ki_Ken_Tai_Ichi



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Aren't we all though, Asexual Character, Bisexual Character, But I really like it when Franky says SUPAH, But Luffy is a lovable little shit, But he's really just kinda awkward, Couple goals, Crocodile ain't actually a bad guy in this, Cuckolding, Date Night, F/F, F/M, Franky doesn't know how to dress himself even in a modern AU, Franky/Nico Robin mentioned, Gen, He's like an older more jaded version of Zoro in this, HoA, I mean Smoker does have daddy energy in general, Literal Sleeping Together, Luffy Is a Little Shit, Nakamaship, Not from any of the main characters though, Possible overuse of Franky saying SUPAH, Sanji trying to be suave, Sharing a Bed, Smoker has big dad energy, This fic just got a lot more soft and domestic, Valentine's Day, because I certainly don't know, because I think they're really cute, because it just makes sense, but she's an OC so I don't think that counts, but that doesn't mean other characters and ships won't appear, but this story is just dad energy, dad not daddy, except Bethany maybe, in all seriousness they probably won't end up dating each other, like their first date was canonically an attempted prison break, making breakfast, mission impossible theme intensifies, no one in this is worse than Spandam tbh, oh my god they were neighbors, so just sue me I guess, so that's cool, so you can rest easy, surprise Nami/Vivi, there is now a plan, we'll have to see where this thing takes us, whether it's a good plan is highly debatable
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:47:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 32,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22124320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ki_Ken_Tai_Ichi/pseuds/Ki_Ken_Tai_Ichi
Summary: Sanji has just moved into the prestigious gated community "Grand Line". Unfortunately for him, the neighborhood is run by the Home Owners Association -HOA- and their president is his next-door neighbor. Fortunately -or maybe unfortunately- his other neighbor provides a welcome distraction for the President simply by being his normal, moss-head self. AU.(will add to tags as story progresses)
Relationships: Franky/Nico Robin, Nami/Nefertari Vivi, Roronoa Zoro & Vinsmoke Sanji
Comments: 80
Kudos: 90





	1. Clever Opening Line

**Author's Note:**

> First wrote this back when we were just finding out Sanji's real surname. Didn't really feel like mentally adjusting so I kept it as the popular fan-name "Black" then and I'll keep it now...certainly doing that for artistic integretiy and not out of laziness, of that I can assure you.  
> Also, Zoro's got both eyes in this despite most of the character appearances being similar to post-timeskip.

Sanji was jarred awake by the incessant blaring of his landline. Muttering under his breath, he rolled out of bed and trudged to his living room, where the phone sat. He coughed -clearing his throat- picked up the phone, and tried to prevent his voice from betraying his exhaustion.

“Hello?”

“Hello Mr. Black. This is Mr. Spandam of the Grand Line Home Owners Association. Is this a bad time?”

Sanji cast a weary eye to the analog clock that sat on his mantel. 6:36 AM. Normally he’d be up by now, but considering it was Sunday –his only day off- he usually slept in until 8:00. He ran a tongue over his dry mouth and forced his sleepy brain to form a coherent response.

“No, no. It’s fine Mr. Spandam. I was up anyways. What did you call about?”

“I’m calling to ask if you’ve received a letter this past week, regarding your hedges.” Spandam said, as if he were trying to reign his temper.

Sanji, confused by the tone, searched his mind. He glanced over to the coffee table and saw an opened envelope. Beside it, a typed letter with an official signature and seal at the bottom. Sanji grabbed the paper and scanned the words.

_Mr. Black…hedges beneath your ground floor windows….too tall…trimmed immediately…fined….Sincerely, President of the Home Owners Association, Mr. Spandam_

It was coming back to him with each word he read. Sanji had returned home a few days ago after work. Dead on his feet, like every night, he had read but forgotten about the letter. Setting the paper down, he rubbed the back of his neck and tried to respond appropriately.

“Yeah, I got it. Sorry Mr. Spandam, I’ve just been busy and-”

“I understand, but all the same I’d rather you come to the Clubhouse today at 7 to discuss this situation.”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to take the time out of your day. I can just trim them right now.” Sanji offered. Wasting time in a meeting with anyone from the Home Owners Association was far from how he wanted to spend his day off.

“No, no. I insist. After all, you’re new to the neighborhood. It’d be best to smooth over any other confusions between us.” Sanji could swear the man was goading him, but without facial expressions it was hard to be sure.

“Right,” Sanji exhaled in defeat.

“Perfect, see you soon.”

The phone clicked and Sanji hung up the phone with a grimace. Running a hair through his bedraggled hair, he headed to the bathroom to shower and start his day.

\-----

Sanji had moved into the Grand Line neighborhood just barely over a week ago. It was a fairly new neighborhood, prided on its safe surroundings and quiet atmosphere. While a bit further away from his restaurant than his old apartment, Sanji had decided it was time to move into a house. And since he intended on marrying and starting a family sometime in the near future –hopefully within the decade- he decided to purchase a home before the houses became too high in demand and thus unobtainable.

However, neighborhoods as premier as this one came with rules and the people who enforced these rules: the Home Owners Association. And the President of this association was Spandam, a man who Sanji had the displeasure of meeting once before –before he’d officially moved in.

Spandam was a tall man who seemed shorter due to an ever present slouch. His coarse lavender hair –Sanji believes the odd color to be the result from an incorrect attempt to dye his grey hairs- seemed to constantly be in need of a wash and his bulbous nose did nothing to enhance his looks.

Sanji, however, would be able to look past all that if the man possessed any other positive traits. But unfortunately Sanji hadn’t noticed any in their short time speaking with each other. The man was snide, condescending, and rather egotistical. He also had a certain voice that seemed to be set at just the right pitch to grate unpleasantly inside Sanji’s inner ear.

And the worst thing about the man, was that he was Sanji’s neighbor. He was the very reason Sanji had taken to leaving the house before 7 on work days; he didn’t want to chance a run in with the guy.

But now it seemed like he couldn’t avoid the man forever. Sanji pulled his car into a parking space near the Clubhouse and entered after tucking the old letter into his jacket’s inner pocket. The Clubhouse was a communal building beside the neighborhood pool. Inside was a small kitchen, an office, some bathrooms, and a living room with couches and a TV. It could be rented for parties, though Sanji hardly saw the point as most houses in the neighborhood had living rooms twice as big as the one in the Clubhouse. Plus the kitchen wasn’t well suited to cooking; it seemed to be designed more for holding the catered food until it was ready to be served. Perhaps the appeal was that the guests wouldn’t be making a mess in your own home?

Sanji poked his head into the office located to the left of the door but found it empty. He thought for a moment and headed for the living room, a bit surprised to find Spandam spread languidly on the couch as if he were trying to take up as much space as possible while still sitting. Sanji nearly laughed at the sight, but remembered this man held actual power with Sanji’s mortgage and property rights, so he withheld even a smirk.

“I thought we were meeting in the office.” Sanji offered to start the conversation, as he sat down on the couch opposite to Spandam.

“We were, but I decided that since I was coming in I called in another homeowner I’ve been meaning to talk to. I thought this space would better accommodate us all.”

Sanji raised his visible eyebrow in surprise. “I thought this was just supposed to be meeting between us?”

“It was, but I might as well knock out two birds with one stone. Besides,” Spandam smiled a thin, toothy grin. “It’d do you some good to see what kind of degenerate you’d become if you allow such misconduct to continue.”

"Misconduct? Mr. Spandam I assure you I’ve simply been too busy and forgot about the shi- erm the hedges. I’m off today, so-”

“So I’m not holding you up, that’s good.” Spandam said, his grinning stretching even wider. Sanji was debating if Spandam was trying to be amicable with that grin or actively trying to piss him off when the smile slid off Spandam’s face as he glanced at his watch.

“He’s late.” Spandam growled and pulled his cell phone from his pants pocket. Sanji tried not to be too awkward as Spandam dialed a number, waited, and promptly snapped.

“This is the 4th and last time I am calling you. If you are not at the Grand Line clubhouse in less than 2 minutes, you will be removed from this neighborhood.” He hung up the phone and stuffed it back into his pocket.

Sanji tried not to stare back at the man in shock. He’d never heard Spandam use any tone remotely similar to aggressive. Weaseling, yes. Sugar-coated, yes. Passive-aggressive, most definitely. But open hostility was something new. And yet. Even when speaking in such an antagonistic tone, Sanji could tell that Spandam wasn’t confident. He wasn’t unafraid of whoever he’d just called. Rather he was terrified, and simply used his position as a shield. Just when Sanji had thought the President of the HOA couldn’t get any worse, he’d displayed Sanji’s most absolutely hated trait –spineless.

Just then the door to the Clubhouse slammed open. Located behind and to the left of Sanji, he couldn’t immediately see who entered. But he certainly heard him. The door slammed shut and heavy, booted footsteps marched across the linoleum floor towards the couches. Sanji glanced out of the corner of his eye and caught a glimpse of black jacket, sweat pants, tan skin, and… green hair? The hell?


	2. Spandam's Other Neighbor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spandam vs Zoro  
> Round One  
> FIGHT!

* * *

The man collapsed on the armchair to Sanji’s left and then Sanji understood Spandam’s spread out posture. It was a poor attempt to intimidate this other guy, who was naturally bigger than the thin president. His tall, broad body easily commanded a presence without him even trying. If only Spandam could notice a lost cause when it stared him dead in the face.

The recently arrived man regarded Spandam with half-opened, grey eyes and a thin frown. While clearly upset about being here, the guy looked more exhausted than anything else. A heavy silence filled the room until the newcomer yawned –openly and without reservation- and spoke.

“What the hell do you want, Spandam?” His voice, even when weighed by fatigue, seemed to be naturally low. And the tone hovered somewhere between _being annoyed_ and _attempting to provoke._

Sanji was unsurprised to see Spandam match the question with a sneer. “Mr. Roronoa, so glad you could finally join us.”

“Shut up and get to the point. I’m tired.” Roronoa snapped, his eyelids even lower than before.

“Yes, this is in regards to your recyclables.” Spandam began, glancing at a notepad on the couch beside him.

“What about them?” Roronoa growled, slouching into his seat.

“You’re using an unregulated receptacle. And according to the Waste Disposal chapter of the-”

“I’m using the right receptacle.” Roronoa interrupted. “I’m just using a second bin too.” He concluded with another deep yawn.

“Precisely. Now you see-”

“What’s the problem exactly? You told me not to keep empty bottles on my lawn. You tell me to put my bottles in the recycling bin instead of the trash. Now you’re telling me not to use the recycling bin?” Roronoa replied, his eyes slightly more open and fixed on Spandam with a level glare.

“It’s the wrong bin!” Spandam shouted.

“I fucking know that!” Roronoa roared back, easily doubling Spandam’s previous volume with half the effort. He settled back and his voice lowered to a hiss. “I filed the damn paperwork for a new recycling bin, but was refused because the first one wasn’t technically damaged. Just what the hell am I supposed to do?”

“How about you drink less booze. Then you wouldn’t need so many bins.” Spandam sneered.

“Fuck you, I can drink however much I want.” Roronoa replied, obviously angered by the very suggestion. “How about you pick up recycling more than once every _other_ week?”

“Once every other week is enough for everyone else, Mr. Roronoa. I don’t see why we should bother having an extra pick up because you have a problem with alcohol.”

“It’s not a problem!” Roronoa protested. “And even if it was, do you see me affecting anyone else in the neighborhood?” Roronoa turned to Sanji, who was casually trying to keep out of the conversation. “You there, Blondie, you ever had a problem with my drinking?”

While indignant to being called Blondie, Sanji caught the pleading glance behind Roronoa’s aggressive front. “Well, I don’t even know-” Sanji tried to explain.

“See?” Roronoa said to Spandam. “The guy doesn’t know me. If I was causing a problem for anyone he’d being saying _yeah that’s the shitty bastard who dot-dot-dot_. But he didn’t. So I’m not. So you can mind your own fucking business.” He suddenly got to his feet and headed for the door.

Sanji, meanwhile, wondered how this utter stranger knew exactly what Sanji would have said if he _did_ know him?

“Mr. Roronoa, we still haven’t settled-”

“I’ll take my fucking recyclables to the dump myself.” Roronoa declared, without turning around. He exited the Clubhouse, leaving the room with a gaping hole where the belligerence and noise had occupied.

Spandam sat back and rubbed his temples in a circle. “You see, Mr. Black. I simply want you to understand the rules in this neighborhood before you turn into someone like him.”

“You don’t have to worry about that, Mr. Spandam.” Sanji replied as amiably as he could. While this Roronoa guy seemed to be blowing things out of proportion, Sanji did admit that the suggestion of limiting his alcohol seemed a little extreme. Sanji imagined it’d be akin to limiting his smoking to a pack a day. While doable, he’d still be pretty pissed about someone telling him what to do.

Spandam exhaled with seemingly great relief. “Thank God, because I really don’t think I could handle having two neighbors like him.”

“He’s your other neighbor?” Sanji clarified. That would explain how Spandam knew about Roronoa’s drinking habits.

Spandam nodded gravely, though he probably didn’t intend it to look so melodramatic. “I’m afraid so. That man is a demon out of hell. To be honest, I was worried Mr. Roronoa’s attitude was some kind of generation-wide epidemic, and since you both are so close in age I thought you’d be like him.

“I doubt it, Mr. Spandam. Some people are just inconsiderate no matter what age.” Sanji agreed, hoping he could leave this meeting all the sooner if he played along.

Spandam smiled at Sanji, seemingly believing his tone. “Excellent. Now you said you would deal with the hedges today? I think two inches off would put them back to regulation height.”

Sanji wondered how anal this guy really was if only a couple inches of plant growth was worthy of a formal letter. “Right, I’ll take care of it today. Promise.”

“Good, then this meeting is over and I hope you have a pleasant Sunday, Mr. Black.” Spandam extended his hand and Sanji internally shuddered, remembering his last handshake with Spandam. Steeling himself, Sanji grasped the hand and withheld a grimace as he gave the moist, clammy hand a firm shake.

Waving over his shoulder, Sanji left the Clubhouse and headed for his car.


	3. Word of Advice

Sanji was just about to head for his garage –to put his shears away- when he heard a voice behind him.

“Still look a bit tall to me.”

Recognizing the deep voice from that morning, Sanji turned around and saw Roronoa standing on the sidewalk in front of his lawn, hands deep in his sweat pants pockets. It had been nearly 4 hours since the meeting that morning, and yet the bastard still looked dead on his feet. But despite his slouched posture and tired disposition, his eyes were steady, clear, and focused on the hedges beneath Sanji’s front windows.

“Fuck you, they’re fine.” Sanji retorted, venting his residual anger from that morning on the man.

“I was right, you do have a mouth on you.” Roronoa smirked. “But seriously, if you don’t want to start trouble with Spandam, you should probably lob another centimeter or two off the top.”

“A centimeter won’t make a difference.” Sanji snapped and headed for his garage.

“He measures my grass every day.” Roronoa said as a reply. “So I wouldn’t put it past him to measure your hedge.”

“Like hell he will. It’s my property.”

Roronoa’s smirk grew even more crooked. “You’ll find that Spandam doesn’t really think that way.”

At that point, Sanji realized that Roronoa, while following his movement towards the garage, had remained on the curb and off his lawn.

“Maybe he’s only after you because you cause so much trouble.” Sanji grumbled, setting his shears on a shelf and exiting the garage. He pulled the door shut behind him, nearly missing Roronoa’s low chuckle.

“Just trying to give you fair warning, Blondie.”

“Oi, Moss-head. Don’t call me Blondie.”

“Ooh, Moss-head? Haven’t heard that yet. Tell me, you a comedian Curlicue?”

“Curlicue?”

Roronoa gestured to his own right eyebrow and grinned toothily. Sanji snarled, trying to think of a new comeback but struggled to find something stranger than the guy’s mossy hair. Tall, so can’t make fun of height. Not fat either, nor was he bean-pole thin. Time to take the high road.

“Look, unlike some unmannered degenerates, I don’t have time to be standing around all day trading childish insults. So if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be going.”

“Hah, always thought that phrase was funny. And by the way, you’re not.”

“Excuse me?” Sanji threatened

“ _If you’ll excuse me_ , no I don’t excuse you. We’re not done talking yet.”

“What’s there to talk about, idiot?”

Roronoa pulled his hands from his pockets and ostentatiously ticked off his answers. “Your still incorrect hedge height, the fact that you can’t come up with an insult about me, your name-”

“Oi, we weren’t talking about names.” Sanji protested.

“Well we are now. I’m Zoro Roronoa. And you?” The man –Zoro- greeted with the most shit-eating grin Sanji had ever seen since his own.

“Sanji Black.” Sanji answered, believing this type of person to be too stubborn to ignore and possessing enough patience to hold out for the long run.

“Well then, welcome to the neighborhood.” Zoro said, and walked away with a low chuckle that reminded Sanji of a laugh some Saturday morning cartoon villain would utter. Sanji’s eyes followed Zoro down the sidewalk and back into the man’s house two doors down. Once he was out of sight, Sanji removed a yardstick from his garage and measured his hedge. And the shitty bastard was right. A whole centimeter off.


	4. Nosey Neighbors and Lawn Maintenance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said one chapter a week, but since the last chapter was so short...  
> "Two (chapters) for you Glen Coco. You go Glen Coco!"

* * *

Sanji grumbled underneath his breath as he painted the railing of his porch, cursing how eggshell white was close fucking enough to pure white. After another week of exhausting work at the restaurant and how was he spending his one day off? Painting his shitty deck railing another shitty shade of white to avoid getting a shitty fine.

Sanji dipped his brush into the can and inched his squat over to the next rail. His language was drowned, suddenly, by the low –but loud- rumble of a lawn mower. Sanji glanced to his right and saw Zoro using a push mower on his lawn. Sanji couldn’t help but furrow his brows at the sight, as it had been some time since he’d seen a push mower. It also reminded him that he’d neglected to purchase his own lawn mower as of yet, since he’d been living in an apartment for so long and wasn’t in the habit of lawn upkeep.

“Quite a sight, isn’t he?”

The sudden voice sent Sanji reeling backwards onto the lawn and he shot his gaze up to his immediate right to see who had spoken. His eyes fell on an older woman –perhaps in her late 40’s- wearing a floral shift dress that, instead of hiding her weight, somehow exemplified it. Choosing to ignore her previous words in favor of properly introducing himself, Sanji got to his feet, brushed off his pants, and smiled warmly at the woman.

“Hello ma’am, I’m sorry to ask but I’m afraid I don’t know your name.”

“Oh my, that’s right. We haven’t seen each other…well, you haven’t seen me at least.” The woman replied with a smile and knowing wink of her dark brown eyes. Her words and actions sent a slight tremor of unease down Sanji’s spine, but he retained his friendly exterior. After all, despite any outward differences, a lady is a lady and should be treated as such.

“I’m Mrs. Bethany Spandam,” she introduced, holding out her hand.

Sanji clasped her hand in a gentle grip and shook, pleased to note her hand –while warm- wasn’t as slimy as her husband’s.

“I’m sorry it’s taken this long for us to meet.” Sanji concluded the handshake.

“Oh don’t worry about it, I see how busy you are.”

There is was again, that same uncomfortable twinge. Why was that? Was it what she said? Or more how she said it…and the toothy grin that accompanied such words.

As Sanji pondered what could’ve caused such an odd sensation, he caught the woman casting another glance over to Zoro, who had briefly stopped his mowing to dump the grass clippings from the bag into an empty garbage can. Sanji just realized the man was shirtless, and that might’ve been what was drawing her stare.

“Say, you’re normal aren’t you Mr. Black?” Mrs. Spandam suddenly asked, her eyes still on Zoro.

Sanji wasn’t quite sure how to respond to such a vague and –ironically- strange question. “I guess,” he replied. “It depends in what area.”

“You like women right?”

Sanji would’ve choked if there had been something in his mouth. “Yes,” he felt no obligation to offer any more information. While this was a rude question and deserved an equally rude answer, this was a lady and the worst Sanji could do was be curt.

Mrs. Spandam gave a pleased hum. “That’s good. Eye-candy is nice, but it’s good to know there’s a real man around.” She said, touching her manicured hand to Sanji’s upper arm and delicately dragged her fingertips to Sanji’s wrist. It had happened before Sanji could fully register her actions and react.

“You should probably mow your lawn soon. Wouldn’t want it growing too high.” She called as she sauntered over to her own yard. With one last lingering look at her tanner, green-haired neighbor, Mrs. Spandam entered the house.

Sanji was rooted in place, his mind reeling like it just withstood a cyclone within his skull. First, Spandam’s wife just came onto him. Second, was she implying Zoro was gay? If he was that didn’t necessarily bother Sanji –after all, less competition- but was this an actual fact or a purposeful slur against their neighbor? Though Sanji doubted a lady could purposefully do such a thing; if it was an unfounded accusation, it likely came from Spandam. Speaking of Spandam…Third, Spandam’s wife just came onto him. Fourth, now he has to mow his shitty lawn before he gets fined by his nosey neighbor. Speaking of his nosey neighbor…Fifth, Spandam’s wife just came onto him.

“Oi, Eyebrow!”

The insult snapped Sanji out of his trance, and he refocused his gaze and realized he’d been staring straight ahead, more or less into Zoro’s yard. In fact Zoro was now standing still, leaning against his mower, staring at Sanji.

“You spacing out or you need something from me?”

“Uh, yeah actually.” Sanji stepped forward, crossed Spandam’s lawn and stopped a few feet into Zoro’s yard. Sanji bit back his own insult, deciding not to offend someone he was going to be asking a favor of.

Zoro narrowed his grey eyes in consideration and spoke before Sanji got the chance. “You seem off….did Bethany just hit on you?”

“Wha- that’s none of your business!”

Zoro laughed deeply. “Oh man, you look so cornered, like she’s gonna pounce on you while your back is turned. It’s hilarious!”

Sanji almost snapped back a comment on the man’s apparent homosexuality, but decided it would be in poor taste. “At least people are interested. Must’ve been eons since someone’s hit on an ugly bastard like you.” Sanji replied coolly, pulling a cigarette from his packet.

“Standards must be pretty low if you think getting hit on by Bethany is a point in your favor.” Zoro quickly shot back.

Sanji lit the cigarette and breathed in, using this brief reverie as an opportunity to shape and hone his comeback. “Insulting an innocent woman just to preserve your own fragile masculinity? Such poor taste.”

“Tch, even if she were a gorgeous young woman it’s still not an accomplishment for you. She hits on everyone, newbie.” Zoro snickered, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What, so she’s serious?” Sanji blurted out, momentarily forgetting about one-upping his neighbor.

Zoro’s smirk grew even more lopsided. “Of course she is. I would know. She’s been trying to sleep with me for the past two years.”

“You can’t be serious. You?”

“I know, I’m just as shocked as you. You’d think the hair would be a turn off alone for such an older woman, but apparently not. Unfortunately my attitude doesn’t deter her either.”

“Two years…so…does that mean…are you homosexual?”

Zoro laughed, this time more like a short, sarcastic chuckle. “Is that her excuse? Just because I’m not interested in her automatically means I must be uninterested in a _ll_ women.” Zoro’s grin slipped away and his eyes narrowed threateningly. “Or is that what you’re saying?”

“No, no, that’s what she implied.” Sanji said casually after exhaling after a particularly deep drag. Feeling the conversation die away, Sanji awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck and thought back to why he was bothering to talk to Zoro.

“So hey, um, it’s been a while since I’ve lived in a house with a proper lawn. So, I don’t have a lawnmower. You think I could borrow yours?”

Zoro raised an eyebrow, as though puzzled by his phrasing or his tone of voice. “Sure,” he grinned. “It’s the least I can do to thank you for moving in.”

“Thank me?”

“Yeah, with you to spy on maybe Bethany will finally leave me alone.”

“S-spy?”

“Yeah,” Zoro clasped a hand on Sanji’s shoulder, his once jovial face the picture of seriousness. “Be careful, she has binoculars.” Then the hand was gone and the smirk was back. “I’m done with this for the day, so you can go ahead a take it. Good luck!” He called over his shoulder and entered his house.

And despite being told very clearly what was going on, Sanji still –somehow- felt out of the loop. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bethany is OC. Thought about having a lesser known OP woman like Kokoro or Lola, but they are both so genuinely nice that I couldn't do it to them. Thought about Alvida, but she's mostly seen Post-Devil Fruit consumption, so her image wasn't right.
> 
> Next update, the AU will be expanding their character roster. Horohorohoro.


	5. Shades of Beige

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Chinese Lunar New Year everyone!

* * *

Next week, Sanji was cleaning his living room while watching the morning news. When his doorbell rang, his pleasantly slow morning was quickly shattered as he wondered as to the identity of his visitor. It was too early for it to be Usopp and Robin, as they were invited to come over for dinner not brunch. And other than them, he wasn’t expecting anyone today. For a brief instant, as he was heading for the door, his panicked mind frantically suggested it was Mrs. Spandam, i.e. the reason he’d taken up the habit of keeping his bedroom and bathroom curtains closed at all times. His worry downshifted considerably when he opened the door to reveal a young woman with bright pink hair, heavy mascara, and a black and white sundress.

“Hiya,” she greeted. “I’m Perona, I live a few doors down,” she said, gesturing lazily to the left of Sanji’s house, towards where Spandam and Zoro lived. “I need some help with painting and I was wondering if you were busy.”

Even with half his house left to clean and dinner to prepare, Sanji grinned amiably at the woman and shook his head.

“Of course not. Nothing would make me happier than to help. My name is Sanji, by the way.” He said, stepping onto the porch and shutting the door behind him.

“That’s great, thanks!” Perona replied, heading down the porch as she spoke. She led Sanji towards her house –a narrow, two story home with a wrap-around porch and carefully maintained flowerbed- which was, incidentally, on the other side of Zoro’s home.

“So, what do you need help painting?” Sanji asked.

“My house.” Perona said, bringing a couple cans of paint off the porch and onto the lawn.

“What part?” From what he could tell, the house was just as immaculate as the lawn. No chipped paint or weather worn areas. It looked amazing, even if the beige didn’t quite fit the homeowner’s personality.

“All of it.” She replied with a shrug, as if it were an obvious request.

Sanji balked a bit at the challenge. An entire house, just by himself? (Since he didn’t expect Perona to help, nor would he allow it.) And even when his own list of chores ran through his mind, Sanji found it all too easy to agree when the woman regarded him a wide-eyed, pleading look. How could he say no to such a nice, young lady?

“Alright then,” Sanji knelt down and started shaking the cans to stir the paint. When she saw this, Perona grinned and headed for the garage. She returned in moments with paint rollers, trays, and can openers. Sanji popped open one of the cans and found himself surprised at the color inside, though in retrospect he should have expected as much.

“This is a lovely color,” Sanji complimented, pouring the bright pink paint into the tray.

“Isn’t it?” Perona giggled and gestured to the house. “I figured that if this color wasn’t acceptable, then I might as well pick something I like.”

“Wasn’t acceptable?” Sanji asked, and shot another glance at the house. Nope. Still beige. “What’s wrong with that color?”

“Oh, I got a letter last week from Spandam, telling me that my house was ‘an offensive shade of beige’. So I checked the rules to see what _would_ be an acceptable shade when I noticed pink wasn’t listed as a prohibited color.” She grinned crookedly. “So I decided to follow Spandam’s suggestion and repaint my house!”

Sanji smiled pleasantly to Perona and coated his roller with the viscous, pink liquid. “I’m sure Spandam will be more than pleased to know you’ll be adhering to the house color prerequisites.”

Perona giggled appreciatively. It was a unique laugh that seemed to include one too many vowels, but it was far from unpleasant. Sanji allowed it replay in his mind like a soundtrack as he began the herculean task placed before him. His mind was free to wander as his body was occupied with this monotonous activity, and like usual it roamed towards recipes. In this particular instant, the recipes in mind had to do with what he was making for dinner tonight. _Perhaps a nice fish roast_ , Sanji considered. _It’s a nice, light summer meal. I could broil it in a lemon base, and it’ll compliment my new white wine very well. Ah but what to serve with it? A vegetable side dish, or something bread based?_

Sanji’s deep musings carried him through the next few hours, and in no time his thoughts were interrupted by a boisterous greeting.

“Sanji! I made you something for lunch if you want to take a break!” Perona called from the porch.

Sanji was immediately snapped out of his thoughts at her voice, and a bright, honest smile stretched across his face. It had indeed been a **long** time since someone made something for him to eat. In fact, he had trouble remembering such an occasion as any house party he attended, he either brought something or helped with prep –even if he wasn’t asked. So he eagerly accepted the offer and sat down on the porch steps with Perona to share the sandwiches. Unfamiliar with the look of the sandwich, Sanji took a tentative bit and quickly identified the basil, mozzarella cheese, and lettuce. With a bit more consideration for the flavor, he recognized the tarragon and chives. It was on the third bite that he remembered what the tomatoes were – green zebra tomatoes. It had been some time since he’d used that species of tomato and was pleased at the unexpected change.

“Good?” Perona asked.

“Very,”

“Thanks, I can’t cook much, but I like making different sandwiches.” Just then she looked to the right and past Sanji’s shoulder. Her grin grew and she left to her feet, running a few steps down her lawn. “Zoro!” Perona greeted with a smiling cheer. “You’re up early!”

Sanji glanced at his watch. 12:05.

“Hm,” Zoro grunted, approaching Perona with at a slow trudge with both hands deep in his sweatpants pockets. “Your house woke me up.”

Perona beamed. “Isn’t it great?”

“Fantastic,” Zoro sighed, heading over to the paint cans. “I’m guessing you want it all done today?”

“Yep!”

“What color you want your shutters?” He asked after a yawn. “White?”

“No, keep them black. If you have time, could you add a coat of gloss?”

Zoro yawned again but continued with the motions of paint prep. “Sure,” he mumbled, coating his roller with a layer of violently pink paint.

“You’re the best!” Perona said, heading back towards the porch.

“Mhm,” Zoro acknowledged, starting to paint the house with half closed eyes.

“I know you probably have stuff to do today.” Perona said, once she reached Sanji. “So you can go after eating, if you want.”

“Alright, and thanks for the food.”

Perona went back into the house and after finishing the sandwich in his hands, Sanji picked up a paint can, roller, and tray and went to the other side of the house. He painted for another 4 hours before calling it quits and heading home to prepare for dinner.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zoro wasn't even going to show up when I planned the chapter, but I just love that bastard too much not to add him as much as possible
> 
> "offensive shade of beige" is not a complaint I am personally familiar with, but one I had found on reddit. I considered having Zoro paint his house green, but I felt that Zoro woudn't give enough of a shit to go through the effort. When I was writing this on ff.net, a reader had suggested Perona instead, so I went with that. Honestly, I think Perona made a much better house paint rebel


	6. Awkward Pool Times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For ease of reading:  
> A single lap down a pool is typically 25 meters. So down and back would be 50 meters. Down and back twice is 100 meters. And so on.

* * *

There were –admittedly- several nice things about living in a community with an HOA. One, these communities accepted a certain socio-economic class that kept the area relatively safe and crime free. Two, the HOA gathered and supervised funding of community amenities like a playground, clubhouse, pool, and tennis court. And now, with a relatively free Sunday, Sanji decided to finally take advantage of one of these amenities.

The gates to the pool opened at 10 am Sunday morning, and Sanji greeted the first lifeguard –a young lady with light blonde hair in twin braids- with a smile and basic pleasantries. The lifeguard –Connis- replied in kind, though her coworker –an older man with a Mohawk and tribal tattoos- didn’t seem so happy to see him. Or rather, he wasn’t happy to see a _nybody_ , so early in the morning.

Sanji selected a lounge chair in the far corner of the pool, out of the way of any other early morning visitors, and gave his back a good stretch before plunging into the chilly pool water. Before the chill could seize up his muscles, Sanji went right to work, starting with an easy 100 meters of breaststroke. After a light breather, he started his laps of freestyle and forced himself to keep going until an even 250 meters. He stood in the 5 foot end, heaving gasps of air and mentally berating himself. Not that he’d ever been a fantastic swimmer, Sanji still considered himself a healthy person and felt like 10 laps shouldn’t wear him out as much as it did.

Once his lungs no longer felt constricted, Sanji launched into another set and rest after an additional 10 laps. After that, it only took 100 meters of butterfly for him to hang on the pool edge in defeat. He always forgot how exhausting that stroke was until he was halfway through one lap, but refused to stop after only one. Especially since that cute blonde, Connis, was on watch. Despite his already sore muscles and erratic heart, Sanji forced himself to complete two more 250 meter sets of freestyle and 100 meters of breaststroke as a cool down.

His arms feeling like rubber, Sanji pulled himself out of the pool and trudged to his nearby lounge chair. He yanked the towel off the furniture and proceeded to dry his hair as best as he could manage. Once it was no longer dripping, he examined his blonde locks, frowning at the slight green tinge the chlorine had caused. Barely an hour in the pool and it was already being affected. Just great. At least it wasn’t enough to completely stain his hair. He stood, laid the towel on the lounge chair, and lied down with a content sigh. Using his crossed arms as a pillow, he practically melted underneath the powerful rays from the bright sun. Now this was how he meant to spend a day off.

“Hey there Blondie~”

Sanji couldn’t fully repress the shudder than ran down his spine. That nickname had never sat well with him, but hearing it without the barest sliver of sarcasm, in a tone that oozed pleasure and **want** was overwhelming in the worst of ways. Especially considering that he recognized the voice’s owner.

Fixed on a deep mental battle of whether or not to ignore the woman he could hear approaching, Sanji failed to come up with a decision by the time thick, yet delicate, fingers grazed across his triceps.

“Mhm, don’t know why you hide such a nice body under all those suits of yours.” Bethany hummed as she sat down on the lounge chair beside Sanji while he attempted to figure out how exactly to respond to her words, actions, and overall presence.

“Something wrong, Sanji?” He could practically see the pout on her lips with the tone of voice she was using.

With a grimace towards his own polite tendencies, Sanji sat up and turned towards Bethany but his reply was temporarily halted when he saw the woman’s bikini, which was much too small considering someone of her age and not the right cut for someone of her body type. Bethany smirked and Sanji balked at what he thought she was assuming he was staring at.

“Hello Mrs. Spandam,” Sanji greeted, keeping his eyes fixed on the lounge chairs over her shoulder so she wouldn’t get the wrong idea.

“Oh, what’s with the _Mrs._? You’re making me feel old, calling me that.” She smiled.

“Forgive me, it’s just how I show respect to women.” Sanji replied, foregoing the fact that he typically used such a title for older, **off-limits** women.

“Well, please, call me Bethany.”

“Right,” Sanji nodded, wishing desperately that he could smoke on the pool deck. Anything to give his suddenly dry mouth something to be busy with.

“It’s nice I ran into you. I was worried there wouldn’t be anyone here so early in the day.” Bethany continued as she slipped off her sandals.

“Yeah well, I didn’t have much to do so…thought I could swim some laps…” Sanji mournfully realized that now he’d have to pick a different time of the day to swim if these early hours were a habit of Bethany’s.

“Mhm,” Bethany nodded. “Do you think you could help me with my sunscreen?” Bethany asked with a coy grin.

The moral dilemma, while present, didn’t last long. It was a reasonable request, since they were at a pool, and it would be incredibly rude to say no. How would he even approach such an answer? _No. Why not? Well I don’t want to touch you._ What kind of piece of shit would say that to a woman?

“Sure,” Sanji acquiesced and accepted the bottle of sunscreen. He squeezed some onto his hands while Bethany rolled onto her stomach, propping her head up by crossing her arms underneath her chin.

She flinched at the touch of the cold lotion, but relaxed half a second later. She nearly purred with pleasure as Sanji spread the lotion and smoothed it into her skin. “Mhm, you’re just the sweetest thing. I wouldn’t even need a spoonful of sugar to swallow you.”

Sanji bit his tongue and quickly finished the task. He sat back on his own chair as Bethany rolled back over and finished coating her arms, upper chest, stomach, and legs in what Sanji noticed to be a slower than necessary pace.

“Do you need me to get you?” Bethany asked, holding up the sunscreen.

“Uh, no thank you. I’ll be leaving soon anyway.” Sanji replied, though it **had** been his original plan to stay another hour at least to get some color on his pale skin.

“Oh, what a shame. Where you running off to?” Bethany set down the sunscreen and winked. “Hot date?”

“No, nothing like that.” Sanji couldn’t find it in him to lie. “I just have some work to do around the house. I’m so busy during the week everything just sort of piles up.”

“Well let me know if you ever need a maid. My days are wide open.” The way she emphasized w _ide open_ made Sanji’s innards squirm. He already had a notoriously imaginative mind (as his friends and coworkers were so kind as to remind him) and he didn’t need any help from his **married** neighbor.

“Thanks, but I’m afraid I couldn’t put you out like that.” Too late he realized the poor wording of his reply.

“Oh, I don’t mind putting out.” Bethany replied, gently biting on her lower lip with suggestion.

_Yeah, I gift wrapped her that one._ Sanji huffed to himself. “Well, it was nice seeing you. I have to be going now.” Sanji said as he stood up. He gathered his few items and made for the exit at the fastest pace he could manage without physically running. After all, however repulsed, a gentleman was always a gentlemen…that and it’d be awfully embarrassing if that tattooed lifeguard yelled at him for running.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: blond hair will, in fact, get a greenish tint after exposure to chorline. The lighter the hair, the more noticeable the green. I have many summers of first hand experience to support this.


	7. Victory by Heavy Metal

With Labor Day weekend, the restaurant last night had been **packed** causing Sanji to arrive home in the wee hours of 2 am. The fact that their full house coincided with a lull in wait staff (having lost just over half of their waiters in the course of two weeks) lead to Sanji having to fill the roles of both sous chef AND waiter, making everything five times more frantic and irritating than normal. So he felt completely justified Sunday morning when he glanced at his bedside clock to read 11:56 am.

However, he didn’t exactly have the time to lie in bed all day. After a week of solidly avoiding his neighbors, made easy by the hectic schedule that came with the end of summer, his to-do list once again displayed a horrid backlog of duties, most of which pertained to basic yard upkeep. Oh the joys that came with owning a lawn.

Though that didn’t mean he had to attack these jobs with any particular vigor. So Sanji took his sweet time getting up, making breakfast, and actually taking time to savor his food rather than eat as he was rushing out the door. He’d almost forgotten how _good_ food actually was and allowed his thoughts to drift peacefully for another 30 minutes before forcing himself up and out of the house.

He headed to his garage and took his shears off their shelf. After trimming his front hedges, he headed to his backyard to attack his –admittedly- overgrown bushes when he noticed movement in his neighbor’s yard. He casually glanced up to see Spandam stomp across his backyard, not towards Sanji’s yard but to Zoro’s. He suspected it had something to do with the white bed sheets flapping in the breeze, though he had a hard time expressing w _hy_ that would be a reason for Spandam to look so pissed off.

“Roronoa, what do you think you’re doing?” Spandam snapped, loud enough for Sanji to clearly hear every word from across two lawns.

Zoro’s head appeared from behind the white sheet with a quirked eyebrow and puzzled stare. “I think I’m hanging my laundry out, but I guess I could be mistaken. What do you think I’m doing?”

Spandam curled his lip with disdain. “I’ve told you not to hang your laundry outside. We’re a high class residential area, not some _trailer park_.”

“I’m not sure why you’ve got this idea that I’m so delusional. I’m well aware of where I live, Spandam; I just like the way air-dried sheets smell. Besides, be happy that I had the foresight to do this today instead of tomorrow during your little party.”

The crooked smile that stretched across Spandam’s face seemed to express some sort of believed superiority. “Hmph, that’s awfully c _onsiderate_ of you Roronoa.” He crossed his arms and like magic his douche-ness increased tenfold. “But don’t think that means you’re welcome to my barbeque.”

“Oh dear how will I ever go on.” Zoro replied with a remarkably excessive eye roll. “Believe me, there are plenty of other things I’d rather do. Gouging out my own eyes with sporks taking spot 1,739 on such a list, just above attending your prestigious Labor Day Barbeque.” Zoro stepped away from his laundry and gave a lazy, sarcastic salute farewell. “Later Spandam.”

Zoro disappeared into his house and Spandam turned away with a snarled curse under his breath. As he looked up, Sanji tried to duck behind the nearest bush, but unfortunately not quick enough to avoid his neighbor’s dark, weasely eyes.

“Mr. Black!” Spandam called amicably, forcing Sanji to step into view.

“Hello Mr. Spandam.” Sanji greeted, his fingers nervously twitching as Spandam approached. Nervously, in the sense that being in discomforting situations with unlikeable people make his hands restless not in that this diminutive HOA president actually made him fearful.

Unless said president got word of what his wife had been saying to Sanji as of late. In that sense then he was indeed a touch anxious as to what the president could do to him. Goodbye house.

“I was wondering if you had any plans tomorrow, for Labor Day?” Spandam asked once he was a few feet away from Sanji.

“Plans? Not really. I’ve got the day off, so I was-”

“Perfect, you should stop by my barbeque tomorrow. It starts at noon, don’t feel obligated to bring anything though, since it’s rather last minute and all.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble.” Sanji immediately replied, more out of habit than any desire to provide food to Spandam’s party.

“Well if you insist.” Spandam grinned. “See you tomorrow then.”

“Uh, yeah, see you.” Sanji said, and turned to head back into his house. Just after opening his door though, he glanced back at the sound of hissing pressure. After a few seconds of delay, the pressure was revealed to be the sound of sprinklers turning on. Spandam’s sprinklers. Which had enough reach to soak Zoro’s laundry.

As curious as Sanji was to see the resulting fireworks, he felt as if he’d done enough eavesdropping for one day and headed inside. Besides, if he changed his mind about listening in Sanji was sure he’d be able to hear the shouting from inside.

\----------

The next day Sanji slept in until 10 am and casually putted around his house for a while –a little unsure of what to do with a second day off since he’d accomplished all his chores yesterday. At 11:00 he began preparation for his summer salad and was entering Spandam’s backyard by 12:05. Sanji set his salad bowel on a table spread with other various dishes –potato salad, macaroni, hotdogs, etc- and felt a sudden prickle on the back of his neck that was definitely not elicited from any end of summer breeze.

“Hm, and what have you brought for us to feast on _mister chef_?” Bethany breathed beside his ear.

“Um, it’s just a light summer salad.” Sanji said, turning around and side stepping away. He couldn’t keep himself from casting a quick scan of the backyard to make sure Spandam wasn’t around. Not that he’d act any differently, but he really couldn’t afford to be a part of any misconceptions.

“Easy there, you look like you’re about to have a heart attack.” Bethany giggled. “Don’t tell me you’ve got a weak constitution.” She murmured after a step closer.

Sanji was close to saying yes, if only for her to leave him alone, when someone’s hand clamped down on his shoulder from behind. “Glad to see you made it, Mr. Black.” He heard Spandam say. What was it with these people and sneaking up from behind? Had they no sense of personal space?

Sanji stepped to the side, once again, but it wasn’t enough to lose Spandam’s grip on his shoulder, which –to his dismay- was clammy enough to be felt through his cotton shirt.

“Come on, I want to introduce you to some other people in the neighborhood, since you’re still rather new and all.

“Oh you don’t have to. It’s al-”

Spandam seemed to have tuned him out and proceeded to steer Sanji around the lawn, introducing him to countless people –all of whom were at least twice his age- whose names and faces seemed to blend together after the first five. After maybe twenty introductions, Spandam finally released Sanji to attend to the grill. Sanji, still reeling from the information overload, stood rooted in one spot without even taking in his surroundings until his daze was interrupted with a low chuckle. Sanji turned to his left to see Zoro, lounging contently in a lawn chair with a beer in hand and a broad smirk that was so close to being smug that Sanji wanted to kick the look off his face.

“Havin’ fun?” Zoro goaded.

“The time of my life.” Sanji replied with a thin frown.

“Relax, Curlicue.”

“Name’s Sanji, Moss-head.”

“-I’m not laughing at _you_.” Zoro continued as if Sanji hadn’t interrupted and reached into a cooler on his far right. “Beer?” He offered, holding a bottle out to Sanji.

“Sure,” Sanji shrugged, accepting both the bottle and the opener.

“I’d offer you a seat,” Zoro continued, “But I only have one chair and don’t feel like standing.”

“Pft, whatever asshole.” Sanji muttered, tossing the bottle opener back at Zoro so it hit him in the side of his head.

Zoro scowled but it slipped away to a neutral frown after a few seconds. “Hey, what kind of music do you like?” Zoro suddenly asked.

“Music? Not trying to make me a mixed tape, are you?”

“Of course, to commemorate all five collective hours we’ve known each other.” He paused to gulp down half of his bottle. “Just answer, idiot.”

“Insults, great way converse with someone, moron.”

“Answer.”

“Fine, uh I mostly listen to stuff without lyrics. Orchestral pieces, sometimes big band swing or jazz, uhm, but I don’t dislike rock and roll or some pop stuff.”

“What about metal?”

“Metal?” Sanji questioned, eyeing Zoro from the side. He certainly didn’t seem like the metal type. With the green hair he seemed more punk than anything, though he guessed it was completely believable considering the guy’s poor personality traits and general anger issues.

“Yeah, I’m not gonna call myself an expert on the genre, but it’s pretty loud right? Not exactly something you’d play at parties or old folk homes?”

Sanji shrugged as his answer, unsure as to what this guy was going on about. Though as he thought about it. Zoro’s anger issues. Parties and old folk’s homes. Spandam turning on his sprinklers yesterday. Oh.

“You can’t be serious?”

“I am. The guy soaked my sheets yesterday for no reason other than hanging laundry out makes this neighborhood look poor. Well fuck him.”

“Yeah, it was a dick move, but are you sure?”

“I’m not hurting anyone.” Zoro replied with a defensive shrug. “I was _going_ to turn on his sprinklers, but that would’ve ruined the food and I didn’t want to do that. So, I’m just going to turn on some music for my own enjoyment. I’m allowed that right?”

Sanji covered up his laugh with an exasperated sigh. The metal image of Spandam contending with the loud guitar riffs and coarse screams of metal during his –rather tame- barbeque was something he had no idea he’d wanted so badly to see until it was supplanted into his mind. “Not afraid of a noise complaint?”

“Nah, I’m friends with the sheriff.”

Sanji raised an eyebrow at that statement, rather incredulous as to how _that_ could’ve happened, given Zoro’s personality.

“Another story.” Zoro said with a shrug, after catching Sanji’s stare. He downed his beer and got to his feet with a cracking arch of his back. “You’d better head back, before you’re guilty by association.”

Sanji snickered and raised his beer as a means of farewell before heading back into the lion’s den. Not five minutes later, the peaceful –if dull- rumble of conversation was swept away in a tsunami of electric guitars and guttural screams. Thunderous pounding of the drums and a steady –worryingly fast- heartbeat of the bass overtook the shocked crowd. Sanji glanced over to Zoro’s lawn to see the perpetrator lounging in his chair, as before, casually bobbing his head along with the beat. And while Sanji was certain he wasn’t the only one to notice the shit eating grin stretched across the Moss-head’s face –this was evidenced by the bright red color that overtook Spandam’s once pallor skin- he did feel a certain satisfaction having recognized the song as one from his high school days, back when things were a bit easier and something like revenge was black and white with no messy grey to blur the simple moralities of youth. Funny how such a shitty song could be so nostalgic.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See y'all next week folks. It's gonna be SUPER!!!!


	8. The Great(ish) Debate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy (belated) Valentine's Day y'all!
> 
> Here's a chapter with (par for the course) ZERO romance to celebrate!

* * *

Owning a lawn is shit and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

It’s just too much goddamn work! You have to keep the grass blades of a certain regulated height. You have to have half an inch of space between the grass and the curb. You have to have your grass between these two shades of green. You have to keep your lawn free of these specific _Genus species_ of weeds. You have to keep bushes of a certain height. You can’t have too many lawn ornaments. You can’t have too many of a certain flower in your garden. Yours trees can’t be too tall or spread out to wide. And speaking of fucking trees… you can’t have tree limbs piled on your lawn.

Sanji stared at the fine that was scotch taped to his front door with a stiff frown but steadily growing fury. The note seemed to almost mock him, as he couldn’t help but read such a flashy script in anything other than the most pretentious voice he could image. A voice that was startlingly close to Spandam’s. Sanji yanked the note off his door, cast an eye to the branches piled on the curb, and stormed into his house.

While he desperately, oh so very desperately, wanted to stomp over to Spandam’s house and argue against this fine RIGHT FUCKING NOW, he considered knocking at the guy’s door at 12:30 am wasn’t going to help his case. No, according to the note scribbled on the bottom of the paper, he’d have to attend some stupid upcoming HOA meeting this Friday night if he wanted to argue against this fine.

But in his defense. It wasn’t even his fault! Sanji couldn’t stop himself from audibly cursing last weekend’s hurricane, all previous hurricanes, and any subsequent hurricanes with every foul insult he knew as he got ready for bed. Once in bed, Sanji mentally rehearsed how he was going to manage speaking with Spandam about this fine without insulting the moron’s intelligence before passing out after 15 minutes.

\---------- 

Two days later, and extremely pissed that he was wasting a precious sick day for this, Sanji was sitting in the Grand Line Clubhouse on a metal folding chair amongst a small collection of twenty other residents. The fine, tucked away in his suit jacket, crinkled every time he shifted to get comfortable –an impossible feat in these chairs- and only served to piss him off every time he moved.

_Alright, just explain that the hurricane knocked the branches off your tree and you put them on the curb for trash collection just like that shitty, no, just like the HOA manual said._ Sanji was so busy going over his lines that he didn’t notice the meeting starting until a loud banging startled him from his thoughts.

He looked up to the front table –also the kind that can be folded for storage- and saw Spandam sitting at the center of the table holding a gavel. _Really,_ Sanji mentally bemoaned. _This guy uses a fucking gavel? Really? Does he even know how ridiculous that looks?_

“The Home Owners Association open meeting has commenced. First up on the docket are general questions, comments, petitions, and disputes. Are there any who wish to speak on such matters?”

Just as Sanji was gathering breath to answer –the sooner he sorted out this shit the sooner he could leave- a man to his right and up one row jumped to his feet, making a sound somewhere between a shout of pain and a victorious proclamation.

“Yeah, I’ve somethin’ to say.” The man declared, his deep voice befitting his large, broad stature. He squeezed between the rows of chairs until he was free from the cluster, and marched to the front of the room. Once he turned around, Sanji was dismayed to see he lacked certain pieces of attire: shoes, closed shirt, and –most befuddling- pants. Granted his blue speedo covered up all his parts, but the tight material left little room for imagination.

_Why do I feel like half the people in this neighborhood are sexually assaulting me?_ Sanji wondered as he averted his eyes with a double face palm.

“Yes, ahem, what is it you’re speaking about Mr. Flam?”

“Alright, so I’m here about the blueprints you wanted me to get signed by a licensed engineer.” Mr. Flam said, holding up a rolled up paper as if to validate his presence.

“Blueprints?” Spandam questioned, ruffling through past notes. Though his unfocused eyes made it clear he wasn’t reading anything, just distracting his eyes from the weirdo’s lack of wardrobe.

“Yeah, for that treehouse you wouldn’t let me build last month.” The man replied with a wide smirk. “Said I couldn’t build the thing without an engineer’s approval.”

“Ah yes, hand them over please.”

With a grand flourish, Mr. Flam passed the rolled up paper to Spandam, who unfurled the document cautiously, almost as if he was afraid of what he’d see. Though an expression of relief swept over his face when he saw –what Sanji could only assume to be- proper blueprints. After a half a minute of inspection, Spandam’s right brow quirked up and he sneered with both his mouth and –somehow- his eyes.

“Care to explain why _your_ signature is on this document, Mr. Flam?” Spandam asked, coming across as the cat who had just caught the canary.

“Well, I _am_ an engineer, Spanda.” Mr. Flam proclaimed, striking an awkward pose that involved both arms –side by side- shooting up to his left. “And a SUPER engineer at that! Been on the job for 18 years and not a single miscalculation!”

_You’ve gotta be kidding me_. Sanji thought. _This guy can’t even dress himself but we let him make **buildings**?_

Spandam seemed to have a similar idea, though Sanji was loathe to even share that much with the guy. Spandam took the doubt a step further, though, and asked to see Mr. Flam’s credentials, which were again presented with an extravagant movement. Though where exactly the guy had been hiding his engineer credentials on his scantily clad person, Sanji didn’t want to spend any further thought on.

This too was examined, and Spandam eventually passed back both documents with a huff. “Fine, fine, your treehouse plans are approved. Now go and sit-”

“Ah, hang on a sec. I promised Zoro-bro I’d give you this.” Again, the man produced a paper from his person out of seemingly nowhere. This time he passed the folded paper with little embellishment, as if to try and underplay this exchange as much as a guy like him could.

“Roronoa wrote this?” Spandam questioned skeptically, keeping his arms crossed over his chest rather than accepting the held out paper.

“Yeah, said since he couldn’t get out of work –or maybe he said he didn’t want to…whatever. Point is, this is his argument against that security system fine.”

Spandam stared down his nose at the note and shook his head. “I’m sorry, individuals must make their cases in person if they want to argue a fine.”

“Spanda, I really think you should read this. Zoro-bro’s real serious.”

“Then make his case for him, if it’s so important.” Spandam replied with a careless wave of his hand.

“Alright then,” Mr. Flam unfolded the paper and, after clearing his throat, began. “ _Spandam, this security system you’re enforcing is complete bullshit. Even if I wanted a security system, I wouldn’t want the company owned by your cousin to be doing the setup at double the price it’s worth. If I get robbed, it’s my business. None of yours. If that’s not enough reason to drop the fines, I thought I’d let you know that I know how you were able to afford the new addition to your-”_

“Wait, stop right there!” Spandam roared, yanking the paper from Mr. Flam’s large hands.

“You sure? Cuz after that he lists a couple other things, like the Fourth of July Pool Party last year, and something about April this past year and-”

“Shut it, that’s enough. Tell Roronoa it’s settled for now. Just shut up and take a seat!” Spandam demanded, his face flushed from what Sanji could only guess was shame.

Mr. Flam lowered his sunglasses from the top of his blue hair down to over his eyes and marched back to his chair with a victorious grin. While the entire exchange had been bizarre, it did give Sanji some hope. After all, if guys like that could get around these shi- these rules, then surely he could. Right?

“Alright,” Spandam began. “Anyone else-”

“I’d like to say something.” Sanji said, raising his hand high and standing to ensure no oversight or confusion as to who was next.

“Ah, Mr. Black. Do you have something to say?”

“I just said I did.” Sanji replied before he could initiate his “dumbasses with power” filter. While the corner of Spandam’s mouth did twitch at Sanji’s words, nothing else was shown. Sanji considered this to be a good enough sign and continued.

“Yeah, it’s about the fine I got a couple days ago, regarding the discarded tree branches. You see, they were knocked down during the hurricane last weekend and I piled them on the curb, but then I got a fine saying they were on my lawn.”

There was a brief, but very uncomfortable silence, as both men waited for the other to speak. Sanji tried to stand still and not tap his foot or drum his cigarette-less fingers as the silence made his nerves buzz with anxiety. Spandam, however, seemed to be rather bored and with a rather befuddled expression finally prompted with: “and…”

“And? Well _and_ why am I getting fined?”

“Mr. Black, as it said on the ticket, you have improper garden foliage on your lawn and-”

“It wasn’t on my lawn, it was on my curb, exactly where this HOA manual says to put it.” Sanji retorted, his voice wavering dangerously between restrained politeness and uncontained rage.

“Some of it may have been on the curb, but the spillover reached your lawn as well.”

There were a few heartbeats of heavy silence as Sanji took this in. “So, you admit that I put my branches in the right place.”

“Partially,” Spandam nodded.

“Partially? It’s either yes or no. Did I put my branches in the right place?”

“Some of them were-”

“Look, answer the damn question. Just where the hell else was I supposed to put the shitty branches?” Sanji erupted, which he faintly regretted 0.2 seconds later. _Shit_.

“Mr. Black, I’m afraid the fine remains. Take care to properly dispose of your lawn rubbish in the future.” Mr. Spandam looked at his papers, signifying that the discussion was over.

With a strangled roar of raw fury, Sanji marched out of the sea of metal chairs and stormed out of the clubhouse, taking care to slam the door as he went.

_Scratch that,_ he mentally snarled as he lit a cigarette, _being in an HOA is shit_.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it wasn't obvious from the opening paragraph, I really dislike HOA neighborhoods.
> 
> Also, Franky will not be referred to as Mr. Flam for the rest of the story...and yes, that means Franky will be reappearing again down the line. However, this is my first time really writing about Franky in any length, so please let me know if I need to adjust his speech pattern/mannerisms/etc.


	9. Shots Fired

As much as Sanji had wanted to stay at home Saturday and stew in his entirely justified misery, there were far too many reasons not to skip out on another day of work: Saturdays were the busiest, he was the sous chef, he couldn’t afford to lose a day of pay now that he had to pay some dumb fine, his old man would likely show up on his doorstep and drag him back to work by the ear for skipping twice in a row- just to name a few. And so, Sanji woke up an hour earlier on Saturday morning so he could reach the restaurant with plenty of time to prep what hadn’t been done Friday night. As expected, his old man didn’t appreciate his absence yesterday and had Sanji more than make up for it by having him come in Sunday to clean the entire kitchen and prep for Monday morning, leading to Sanji dragging his ass back home at o-dark-thirty (sometime between 2 and 3 am). Therefore, it was completely understandable when Sanji awoke to his alarm Monday morning, blinked, and saw an hour had somehow passed in that brief millisecond.

And while Sanji wasn’t by any means late, the restaurant wouldn’t open on Mondays until 11am, he was already on thin enough ice with the shitty geezer. So, as if the peg-legged mustachioed devil himself were at his heels, Sanji dressed, ate, and headed out of his house in record time. In fact, he had gotten ready so fast that he had nearly made up for his extra sleep. However, with his car key wedged in his car door lock, Sanji noticed something white moving out of the corner of his eye that made him pause his mad scramble. He brought his gaze up and instantly recognized the substance that lazily fluttered in the morning breeze. Toilet paper. More specifically, toilet paper on Spandam’s house.

Sanji failed to withhold a smirk. A quick glance around the street showed that this was a targeted operation, as no other houses bore similar vandalism. And, if Sanji were being completely honest, whoever had done the deed certainly knew what they were doing. The rolls had been expertly wound around the porch railing, tree trunk and branches, and even around the dormers squatting on the rooftop. Several feet of the paper had been left loose on the tree branches so that they could wave to passerby like the proud banner of a castle.

All in all, the sight was the perfect start to what was guaranteed to be a hectic and exhausting day.

Sanji opened his car door and brought his attention to the road at the sound of a low engine. He saw a maroon Ford truck turn down his street and pull into Zoro’s driveway. He was a bit surprised to see the green haired man exit the truck dressed in dark blue coveralls and stocky black boots. It looked like a work uniform, so what was he doing coming back home; had he forgotten something?

He watched Zoro slam the truck door shut and trudge up the walkway to his front door. Instead of moving with the haste of someone who was returning for a forgotten object, he moved at the breakneck pace of the undead. After finally making it to his front door, Zoro paused, staring at the wood with a focused scowl. He barred his teeth in a snarl and stomped over to Spandam’s door, with a noticeably different demeanor and a piece of paper in hand. Though still clearly exhausted, he was alight with a temper so focused he hardly sparred a glance at the toilet paper fluttering around him like some messed up snowfall.

He stalked up Spandam’s porch and Sanji –after realizing he’d been standing still for nearly two minutes- was about to sit in his car before a thunderous boom of fist meeting door recaptured his attention. Zoro slammed his fist on the front door again, with enough vigor to make it quake in its frame. After a second’s pause, Zoro hit the door again and this time the door swung open, though not from breaking. Spandam stood before the irate Moss-head with wide, fearful eyes but a thin lipped frown forced on his jaw. Zoro held the paper up and forced Spandam to look him in the eye.

“Just what the hell is this?” Zoro seethed. The only reason Sanji was able to catch the low threat was because he _might_ have been focusing every iota of his attention on what was shaping up to be an actual fist fight.

“A fine, Roronoa, and summons for restoration.”

“For what?” Zoro snapped.

A shudder ran through Spandam’s body at the shout, but he remained standing. After a deep breath in and out, Spandam squared his shoulders and gestured to his house and lawn. “For this. You’ve vandalized my home and now you’ve got to clean this up and pay a fine. Just be lucky I’m letting you stay in this neighborhood.”

Zoro stepped back and took in his surroundings. His eyebrows rose in surprise, but he didn’t smile. In fact, his scowl quickly recovered, and he seemed even angrier than before.

“What the fuck makes you think I did this? I’ve been at _work_ the past 9 hours. You know that!”

“Tch, well then who else could have done it?”

“You’re seriously accusing me without any ground for proof?!” Zoro shouted, crumbling the paper in a trembling fist. Sanji could tell from the slight shift in the man’s stance and shoulders, that Zoro was about to punch Spandam. The idea of such a sight ensured his shameless eavesdropping, and -to be perfectly honest- it was quite a disappointment to see that, instead of swinging a punch at the HOA president’s face, Zoro turned on his heel and marched across the street.

Sanji followed his movements and saw Zoro approach the house directly across from Spandam’s. Without so much as knocking on the door, Zoro entered the house. In about 30 seconds, he reemerged dragging a person behind him by the ankle. The person seemed to not be giving much struggle, despite the way his head bounced on each step when descending the porch. Zoro continued to drag this person back to Spandam, and once they were across the street Sanji saw how young the person, this kid, was.

Once on Spandam’s lawn, Zoro grabbed the kid by the shoulder and picked up him, ruthlessly shaking him as he did. The kid groaned and blearily opened his eyes. After brushing his shaggy black hair from his face, the kid noticed where he was and busted out in unrestrained laughter. The sound was so giddy and cheerful that Sanji had a hard time restraining his own snicker, but Zoro’s frown only deepened.

He shook the kid again, likely an attempt to try and indicate how serious he was, and while that succeeded in quieting the boy, it didn’t come anywhere close to removing his wide smile.

“Luffy, did you T.P. Spandam’s house?” Zoro demanded.

“Yeah, turned out great didn’t it?” The boy, Luffy, chirped happily.

Spandam’s pale face turned a light shade of red as he stared, jaw slacked, at the boy in front of him. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Spandam closed his mouth and curled his lips into a poorly suppressed sneer.

“You’re Garp’s kid aren’t you?”

“Yep! He’s my grand-dad!” He replied, seemingly unaware of how much shit he just gotten himself into.

“You mind telling me what the police chief’s grandson is doing vandalizing my house!” Spandam roared, but the kid only picked his nose in response.

“Cuz you got rid of my hoop.” He retorted, removing his pinky from his nose and flicking the booger aside. He fixed Spandam with a blank stare, as if the reason should be obvious and the fact that he had to explain it made Spandam the biggest moron on the planet.

“Your _hoop_?” Spandam clarified.

“Yeah, my driveway basketball net. You said it was unsightly, so I had to get rid of it. Now your house is unsightly, so you have to get rid of it!” Luffy explained with a triumphant grin.

“Great, now that that’s settled, I’m gonna sleep.” Zoro flatly announced and released his hold on Luffy’s shoulder. He trudged across Spandam’s immaculate lawn, back to his own house, while Spandam fixed a cheated sort of glare at his back, as if he couldn’t believe Zoro was leaving after dumping this information on him. But the stare was short lived and Spandam quickly brought his furious attention back to Luffy, who was currently staring at the toilet paper around him with a blank look.

“I think I could’ve used more,” Sanji barely heard him muse aloud.

“I doubt that, since you’ll be the one cleaning all of this up.” Spandam snarled, crossing his thin arms over his chest.

“Can’t, I have school.” Luffy replied, crossing his own thin arms loosely across his chest in a posture that was more relaxed than Spandam’s purposefully imposing stance. And yet, somehow, the high school boy came across as more threatening. Maybe it was the blank stare he gave Spandam, or perhaps the lackadaisical tone of his voice, like everything he said wasn’t a threat or argument but a fact that couldn’t be disputed.

“Then you’d better get to work.” Spandam hissed. “Or you will lose access to all community amenities.”

“Lose access to what?”

“The pool, the clubhouse, the fitness center, everything communal.”

“Fine,” Luffy relented, speaking in a shockingly low and hollow voice as he bowed his head.

Without another word, Spandam entered his home and Luffy –in a forlorn manner akin to an artist burning his own masterpiece- begin to take down the toilet paper. Sanji, after sending a quick glance to Spandam’s door, crossed the space between him and the kid in several long strides. The boy looked up and watched his approach with a thin frown and sad eyes.

“Nice job,” Sanji murmured, instantly turning the kid’s sour look into one of unadulterated joy. The smile that stretched across his face was the widest Sanji had ever seen and may’ve triggered a slight upturn of his own mouth. “I’m curious, though, why toilet paper?”

“I wanted to egg his house, but I didn’t have enough. And when I went to Zoro’s to ask for some, he said he was out and gave me toilet paper instead.”

“Hm,” Sanji replied and considered the last time his restaurant had gotten eggs. It had been almost a week, which meant a new shipment today or tomorrow, which meant all current eggs needed to be disposed of to ensure freshness, and Sanji certainly hated to see food go to waste.

“Come to my house tonight at 2 and I can get you some eggs. That is, if you’re still interested in-”

“Hell yeah! That sounds awesome!” Luffy roared practically wrapping his arms and legs around Sanji in a massive hug.

“Hey, keep quiet.” Sanji snapped, shrugging the sudden and unwelcomed contact off. He glanced back at Spandam’s house but saw no signs that the bastard had heard anything. “The supplies come with one condition, alright?”

He waited for Luffy to nod his head –which he did quickly and eagerly- before he continued. “You didn’t hear anything from me.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with this chapter, I am officially caught up with my backlog. I've been working on new chapters in the meantime and can hopefully continue to post every week.   
> Wish me luck!


	10. Horrors of Halloween

Somehow, in the back of his mind where his common sense was hidden, Sanji had known getting involved with Luffy would lead to more problems. Maybe he realized this when he had handed three dozen cartons of eggs over to a high schooler with a vendetta and no remorse. Maybe he understood this when he had stuck around late into the night to watch the vicarious show unfold.

Or maybe it was when Sanji threw half a dozen eggs the moment Luffy had casually offered him a carton.

Nevertheless, what was done was done and now Luffy had blackmail material over Sanji. And what was the kid doing with it? Luffy was strong-arming him (him, a literal adult with a mortgage) into coming to a Halloween party that Friday night. And why did he want Sanji at the party? Did he want Sanji to bring along booze? No. Did he expect Sanji to bring older women? No. Did he think Sanji could bring food from his restaurant? No- well, Luffy _did_ ask after finding out about Sanji’s job, but when Sanji had firmly declined, his presence at the party was still demanded by the kid.

No alcohol. No women. No food. What did Luffy want Sanji for?

Friendship.

Sanji didn’t have time for this. Hell, he barely had enough time to balance work and house maintenance. What little free time he _did_ have was allotted for his already existing, adult friends. He didn’t have time for high school boys who liked to TP and egg houses (his own participation notwithstanding). He didn’t have time for green-haired weirdos who smirk more than smile. And he _wished_ he didn’t have time for sniveling HOA presidents who still gave him the stink-eye because of a _tiny_ bit of cursing at the HOA open meeting two weeks prior.

Unfortunately, no, Sanji had to make lots of time for Spandam. Like going to the man’s Halloween party that same night.

So, to keep his promise to Luffy, Sanji went to his party early, stuck his head in, and left before Luffy could convince him of any further acts of petty vandalism. The teenager was surprisingly adamant about Sanji having only just arrived and for him to wait until the rest of the “gang” got there, but Sanji was able to escape under the –honest—excuse of needing to attend Spandam’s Halloween party. Being called a butthead by Luffy didn’t really hurt, but the sad look in his eye as Sanji shut the front door behind himself did sting just a bit.

\---------- 

Sanji entered Spandam’s home and saw a little over a dozen people standing around the living room to the right. The costumes were rather tame; people dressed as vampires, witches, angels, with the occasional pop culture from the latest blockbuster thrown in, so Sanji felt relatively at ease in his chef whites. Surprisingly, despite having four times the amount of people as Luffy’s party, things seemed even deader at this house. Unless of course that was the atmosphere Spandam was going for, it being Halloween and all.

He walked down the hallway, bypassing the living room and heading for what he hoped to be the kitchen. His assumptions were correct, and Sanji headed straight for the punchbowl. A tentative sip proved that it had indeed been spiked, so light though that he had no idea what exactly with. But it was better than nothing. After that disaster of an HOA open meeting two weeks ago, Sanji needed this party to go well so that he could get back on Spandam’s good side. Alcohol probably wasn’t the answer, but it sure as hell was a necessary component to playing nice.

After his second cup and a few bites of the themed hors d'oeuvres, Sanji felt ready to engage in calm, mature conversation with the handful of other partygoers in the kitchen. He was just in the middle of giving his personal recipe of a ginger glazed Mahi Mahi to a housewife, whose husband apparently played backgammon with Spandam at the clubhouse on Thursdays, when he felt a hand on the small of his back.

“Well, well, well, looks like somebody brought something yummy to the party.” He heard Bethany murmur into his ear while the housewife he’d been talking to, and who had apparently missed Bethany’s whispered words, perkily greeted the hostess.

Sanji, his skin crawling underneath Bethany’s touch, was about to steadfastly plough through his original conversation before the housewife was distracted by someone back in the living room. He watched her escape with a desperation not unlike watching a co-worker leave just before a dinner rush…except this was far worse.

Unable to stand the pressure any longer, Sanji turned around to face Bethany and tried to fix a believable smile onto his face. She was dressed in a spotted body suit that confused him until he noticed the cat ears and whiskers drawn on her cheeks.

“Honey, you give a whole new meaning to the word edible.” She drawled, lazily dragging her manicured nail from his kerchief to his apron.

Sanji supposed he only had himself to blame for being lazy and wearing his chef whites to a costume party.

Before Sanji could come up with a non sequitur to steer the conversation from her last comment, a stray elbow of some other attendee knocked Sanji off balance and into Bethany. No harm done, really, except for the spiked punch dumped all over her front.

“Oh dear, now look what you’ve done. Now I’m absolutely _soaked_.”

“Uhhhhhhh,” Sanji couldn’t reign in the sound since his brain was too focused trying to reboot. Hopefully, once his systems were back up and running, her last sentence would be wiped clean from his memory.

“-shh, wait right there; I’ll be back in a jiffy.” She stalked away, her attached tail bouncing with each high heeled step.

An agonized handful of seconds later, with that _awful_ comment of hers still needled into the recesses of his memory, Sanji abandoned the kitchen and hid within the crowd of the living room. He couldn’t find the housewife from before but managed to join in on a nearby conversation about the newest legislation the town was passing in regard to school district lines. Sanji had absolutely no knowledge or interest in the subject, but he found that a well placed “mhm” and “that makes so much sense” here and there made him well liked enough by the others.

Once there was a lull in the conversation, Sanji excused himself to get more punch. He was just exiting the kitchen, searching for a sequestered group with –hopefully—better conversation topics, when someone stepped into his line of sight.

Bethany.

Her cat whiskers had been mostly wiped off, and her head was absent of cat ears. He noticed the dark red lipstick, large faux pearl earrings, and that her hair had been pulled back before her hand movement, a flick of the wrist to flutter her feather duster, brought his eyes downward. His eyes shot right back up and remained steadfastly on the wall behind her left shoulder.

Bethany had managed to squeeze herself into a French Maid outfit designed for women aiming to get into college parties for free. In fact, it looked so similar to a costume Sanji had seen in the store front to an adult’s shop that he was certain he’d never be able to walk past it again without this exact moment coming to mind. Sanji was in the midst of performing the mental gymnastics required to find a new, lingerie free, route from his parking garage to the Baratie when Bethany took another step closer.

Sanji jerked back to avoid her trussed up cleavage from poking into him only to be met with an obstacle behind him. An obstacle with a surprising amount of give. And a voice to exclaim with upon impact. And-

CLANG

Whipping around was probably the worst thing Sanji could have done, because now Spandam had the face of the person responsible for knocking a pudding-based dessert all over his vampire costume and onto the hardwood floor. The cardboard tombstones displayed such apropos messages up from the splatter on the floor: “RIP”, “Yul. B. Next”, “Imma Gonner”. He certainly was. Especially if Spandam had happened to see his wife…

“M-Mr. Spandam!” Sanji began before he could even think about what to say. “I’m so, very sorry. I didn’t see- I mean, you were behind me how could I, I mean, I didn’t mean to-”

Spandam didn’t move, didn’t speak. Only stared.

“I think you’ve had quite enough, Mr. Black.”

The handful of seconds it took for Sanji to connect the dots between Spandam’s suggestion and the drink in his hand probably didn’t help matters one bit. Before he could defend himself, though, Spandam beat him to the punch.

“Perhaps it’s time you went home. Wouldn’t want to start emulating Mr. Roronoa, now would we?”

Sanji stomach twisted in on itself while he felt his cheeks flush despite his best efforts. Shame, for having ruined the desert. Frustration, over accusation for something out of his control. Rage, at having someone like _Spandam_ throw him out of a party **he didn’t even want to go to**!

He nodded, thanked Spandam for inviting him through clenched teeth, and strode to the front door with his head down and skin burning. The blood pounding in his ears matched Sanji’s footsteps as he stomped down the front steps, the late-night chill doing good on his flushed cheeks. Though to his chagrin, the redness sprouted more from frustration than a good buzz.

He was just contemplating which bottle of red to open after getting home when he noticed the house across the street, Luffy’s grandfather’s home, was a great deal louder than when he’d left. In fact, if the loud shouts, heavy music, and muted lights were any indication, it was a damn good party going on!

There was only a brief moment of hesitation before Sanji allowed his feet to lead him back to the house he’d left only an hour ago. It wasn’t really rude for him to go in, right? Afterall, he’d been invited.

He knocked on the door and, after a few seconds of no response, decided to let himself in. Hardly three footsteps into the foyer and a young man with black hair and freckles spread across his cheeks descended upon Sanji as though he’d been waiting for him all night.

“Welcome! Welcome, man! You’re the chef who gave my lil bro the eggs, right? Gotta be, you’re dressed the part and everything. Come on, come on, drinks on me!”

The man –buzzed if not outright drunk based on his slurring— yanked Sanji deeper into the house, gleefully shouting snatches of greeting and conversation to what seemed like every person he passed on the way. The man finally stopped at a backroom decorated with a long dining room table, matching chairs, and a few cabinets of crystal and china sets. On the table though, instead of the appropriate silverware, was an honest to god beer pong game. Sanji hadn’t seen one since his own high school days, and the nostalgia sank into his person like a warm liquor.

Speaking of.

A solo cup of something dark and strong with rum was pressed into his hands. The same freckled man from before smiled brightly at Sanji and held up his own cup to cheers. Quickly, Sanji realized the other man was chugging and hurried to match his pace, spurred on by a competitive streak he only ever feels in the kitchen. They finished at the same time and the man whooped, seemingly thrilled at the tie. He clapped Sanji hard on the shoulder and maneuvered him towards the head of the dining room table, where everyone readily encouraged Sanji to join their team and throw the next ball.

A little over a minute in and Sanji already thought that this might be the best Halloween he’s had since he was a kid.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't find a way to smoothly integrate this information into the story, but I just wanted to let y'all know that Ace (i.e. the freckled young man who answered the door) was wearing a grass skirt, coconut bra, and a lei as his costume. 
> 
> I just felt that was important information for y'all to know.


	11. Juice and Lollypops

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the very long chapter but I didn't want to break up the one day into two chapters  
> (that and having the second bit as its own stand-alone chapter seemed a bit silly since it was so short)

* * *

Since several of Baratie’s staff were veterans, the old geezer had made the decision to close the restaurant and give everyone a paid day off. Sanji relished the chance to take a break before the hectic nightmare of Thanksgiving and Christmas began and slept in a blessed three extra hours. He might have been able to manage more, if not for the music and shouting permeating from outside. Opening his curtains and craning his neck to see out his window, closed to keep the chilly November air out while he was still dressed in pajamas, Sanji was able to make out a large group of people in Zoro’s backyard. Very strange.

Now Sanji didn’t snoop. He didn’t eavesdrop. There wasn’t a fiber of his being that was interested in gossip or hearsay…but he was _curious_. Of course, wasn’t everyone? Sanji really couldn’t be faulted if he was intrigued as to how and why the biggest, most sardonic asshole he’d ever met had a crowd intermingling in his backyard. So it was only natural that Sanji found himself exiting his back door, watering-can in hand to provide a pretense of yardwork, to try and gather what answers he could about the party two doors down.

He kept his head low, pouring some water into the flowerbed that held nothing other than some shrubs, and noted the folding tables laden with cheap finger food and bottles of liquor and soda. There were three coolers, all nestled on the same side of the table that held the bottles, and likely contained the beers he saw in people’s hands. The guests milling around held plates of burgers and barbeque; some had food and drink while some had only drinks.

So it was definitely a party. For Veterans Day? Was Zoro a Veteran? He was definitely built like one, Army or Marines most likely. But wait. Didn’t he see Zoro in those blue coveralls? That wasn’t any military uniform he’d ever seen before. So maybe Zoro knew someone in military? Maybe-

“Hey, you’re Mr. Black right? Come on over!”

Sanji brought his eyes up only to immediately divert them from the unbuttoned shirt and speedo. Mr. Flam negated his attempts, however, by jogging across the lawns directly towards him. Sanji had a polite decline ready on his tongue, but couldn’t find the will to say it while Mr. Flam physically dragged him over to the party.

“So, um, Mr. Flam-” Sanji begun, hoping the rest of his sentence would miraculously tumble from his mouth.

“Ah don’t me Mr. Flam, bro. Name’s Franky!”

“Oh, o-okay. Call me Sanji, then.”

Sanji glanced around the yard for any other familiar faces and quickly spotted the green haired bastard himself between a broad man with a square jaw and closely shaven head and someone he might have mistaken for Usopp if he hadn’t noticed the orange hair.

“I didn’t know you were friends with Zoro.” That sounded like a reasonable sentence to start with.

“Oh yeah, Zoro-bro works at the shipyard with me. Well, not _with_ me since I’m in engineering. But at the same site as me! He’s a super welder! Or at least that’s what I hear. Zoro-bro works night shifts, so I don’t get to see him in action very often.”

Night shift? Well that would certainly explain the morning arrivals and dead-eyed exhaustion of having a schedule that mismatched the rest of the working world.

“So then why’s he cognizant before noon?” Sanji asked, seeing the energetic way Zoro raced the two beside him in shotgunning. He won and cracked open another, this time a bottle, in celebration.

“Oh, Kidd-bro took his shift last night. Does it every year.”

Sanji could only assume that to be some kind of coworker. He was still trying to parse out a good, normal phrase to continue the polite conversation –going so far as to light a cigarette to buy himself time— when Zoro noticed him and came stalking over.

“Hey, looks like you found your way over. Here, have a drink.” Zoro pressed an unopened can into Sanij’s empty hands. He held his own, opened, bottle out and Sanji tapped his can to it in cheers, at lost for else to do. Zoro didn’t wait for Sanji to figure himself out though and proceeded to drink with a gleefulness that was nearly contagious. Sanji perched his cigarette on his lips and cracked open the can.

“Mr. Roronoa!” A shout carried over the din of the crowd.

“Ah shit,” Zoro muttered, barely moving his bottle to speak and gently clinking his teeth against the rim.

Franky guffawed and patted Zoro on the back before making himself scarce.

“You’re drinking in public!” Spandam snapped once he was within a few feet of Zoro.

“No, I’m not.” Zoro spat back and continued to drink.

“You’re no- I can see you doing it right now!”

“Yeah no shit, Sherlock,” Zoro rolled his eyes. “I meant this isn’t public. I’m on my property.”

Spandam stuck his shoulders back, thrusting his chest out in a facsimile of confidence as he spoke. “HOA code dictates that since your backyard is adjacent to a street, and thus in full view of anyone driving down said street, your backyard qualifies as within the public sphere.”

“People can’t fucking see what I’m drinking from their car, and if they can it’s none of their business because they should have their damn eyes on the road!”

Spandam steadfastly continued, and Sanji was almost impressed that he managed to do so while under Zoro’s murderous glare. “The fine for drinking in public in this state is $250 per person convicted-”

“Well, pft, fuck man…then, then I’m not drinking.”

Spandam stuttered to a stop then. His focus slid from Zoro down to the very obvious beer bottle in his grasp and then back up to Zoro, his eyes nearly bulging out of his skull from the aneurism Zoro was surely about to cause.

“You know what,” Zoro said, his head cocking to the side and wide smile taking over his features, “I think I’ll have a nice refreshing apple juice.”

Zoro swiftly plucked an empty red solo cup from the stack beside the sodas and covered the ground between the table and Spandam in long, lazy strides. Holding the bottle and cup at eye level, Zoro poured the beer, carefully and ostentatiously, into the opaque cup. He tossed the empty glass into the garbage without a glance backwards and took a deep drink. He sighed loudly, even smacked his lips.

“Wow, such refreshing _juice_. Am I sure glad I bought enough _juice_ for my barbeque. Makes me wish I had some _lollypops_ to go with it. Oh, hey-”

Sanji flinched when Zoro closed the distance between them and was more worried about a possible kick to the gut –thanks for the instincts, old geezer— than Zoro plucking the lit cigarette right from his slackened mouth.

Zoro perched the cigarette on his lips with a flourish and sucked in, deeply enough for Sanji to be moderately impressed. With the cigarette half its previous size, Zoro released it and smiled at Spandam, smoke spilling from between his teeth. 

“What a nice birthday of juice and candy. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Sanji wasn’t quite sure if Spandam’s pallor was from anger, embarrassment, or fear, but he certainly fled from Zoro’s backyard a lot quicker than he’d entered. The second Spandam slammed his backyard door, Zoro leaned over, spitting and hacking onto the grass, practically shoving what was left of the cigarette towards Sanji. As if he’d take it back.

“Fucking nastiest shit I’ve ever had in my mouth. How can you stand it?” Zoro wheezed, chugging the rest of his beer and stalking to the nearest cooler for another.

“Clearly you haven’t had a lot of practice with nasty things.”

Wait.

"Wait!” Sanji snapped, but it was too late. Raucous laughter had replaced the strangled coughs. Great, just great.

“I meant food! I’ve had nasty food!” Sanji tried to explain as calmly as he could through his burning face and cracking voice. He grabbed Zoro’s jacket and shook it –but not so much the bulky man wearing it— to convey what his words couldn’t.

“I thought you were a cook? What, your food that bad?” Zoro cackled.

“Not my food!” Sanji howled, belaying the shaking method and instead kicking at his shin.

Zoro winced, leaning down to assess the hit, but still had enough wits about him to block another kick at his lowered torso.

“Stop being an asshole.” Zoro snickered. He stood up, hand still wrapped firmly around Sanji’s ankle, forcing Sanji leg up higher than he’d prefer it to be. It was an easy stance to contort into, just left all of his weight on his back foot and, therefore, unstable. Fortunately, Zoro either didn’t want to fight or knew he’d lose to Sanji because he released Sanji’s ankle without further prompting.

"Just relax and have a drink, okay?” He handed a solo cup over to Sanji.

Just as Sanji had accepted the peace offering and was drinking, he heard Zoro add:

“Maybe the alcohol can numb your taste buds for the next nasty thing you put in your mouth.”

This time, his foot connected to his chest.

\----------

One kick to the chest and two solo cups later, Sanji and Zoro were lounging on some fold out lawn chairs, shooting the shit about something banal like the latest hockey game or whether Wes Anderson was better than Quentin Tarantino. Sanji couldn’t exactly remember the argument or what he was about to say, but he was certain it was going to _cutting._ That’s why, since the universe hated him, Luffy bounded over to them to interrupt. Sanji didn’t have much to add in regard to the newest season of some anime, so he sipped at his drink while the two spoke what might as well have been another language.

“Oh yeah, Zoro,” Luffy voice dropped in tone and pitch, his eyes locked firmly onto Zoro’s. Sanji shifted in his seat, wondering if Luffy was about to dive into something serious and if he should leave to give them privacy-

“Nami couldn’t make it.”

What?! Such a somber mood because one of the guests didn’t show up; sure, Luffy was a kid, but was it really necessary to be so dramatic?

“Good.”

Seriously, Sanji could strangle both of those idiots. Was there a single person in this entire neighborhood who knew how to act like a normal person? Where was the cute girl with the pink hair? Perona? Despite what her appearance might suggest, she was the most well-adjusted adult of them all!

“What’s her excuse this time? Not enough free shit to entice her?”

“Nah, she said she had an exam coming up.”

“Oh yeah, her hot tutor, forgot about that. Alright, thanks for letting me know.”

Luffy nodded and opened his mouth until something to his left caught his eye. “Ace! You made it!”

He sprinted away and collided with a familiar young man with dark hair and freckles. It wasn’t until the stranger smiled that the hazy memories from Sanji’s drunken Halloween night slipped through. The guy in the Hawaiian Hula costume –coconut bra and all— who had so excitedly led Sanji from beer pong to King cup to keg stands until Sanji couldn’t even remember the names to whatever they were doing. So his name had been Ace. Good to know in case he came over. But it seemed that Ace and Luffy were more interested in going around to the other guests. Which was fine with Sanji. He wasn’t sure if he was young enough to party like that again so soon.

Instead he turned back to Zoro, who was adding some soda to his whiskey.

“Nami?” Sanji asked. “Who’s that?”

“A pain in my ass,” but a flat look from Sanji prompted Zoro to continue after a heavy exhale, making it clear how very put out Sanji was making him. “She’s an old friend from high school, only a year younger than me, but older than Luffy. She kinda bridges the gap between us, age-wise.”

“And what’s she like?”

“Didn’t I just tell you? A pain in my ass.”

“Everyone’s a pain in your ass, Moss-head. It’s not exactly a defining characteristic for you.”

“Well, she’s kinda bossy, vain, narcissistic, miserly, and a general nag.”

Sanji could feel his pulse pounding in his skull with each successive description that tumbled from Zoro’s stupid mouth. He swallowed down the instinct to defend who was likely a perfectly wonderful person that Zoro just couldn’t appreciate because of his poor taste, and instead bit out a reply more sarcastic than argumentative.

“Sounds like a wonderful person to be around.”

"Eh, she’s alright.” Zoro shrugged, swirling the mixture in his cup before gulping some down. “She’s really smart and good with money, so she’s the best person to call if you’re ever in a jam and don’t want it to escalate. Unlike some people.” Sanji noticed the look Zoro cast towards Ace and his younger brother, Luffy. “And she’s a great drinking partner and pretty funny when she wants to be. So, she’s not _all_ bad.”

Sanji watched how Zoro mumbled that last bit into his solo cup and downed the rest of its contents. He felt a perplexing voice, keening in his head, whispering to him about what was said, what wasn’t said, and how both were displayed.

“Are, are you in love with her?”

Zoro, who had been pouring more Jack Daniels into his cup, jerked and splashed some of the liquor onto his hand and, subsequently, leg beneath it. “What?” He asked, daring Sanji to repeat what he just asked.

And Sanji was never one to back down from such a flagrant display of a domineering attitude.

“Are you in love with her?”

“No,” Zoro answered. “No, no, no, no, **fuck** no. If I ever was, please pop one,” he clicked his tongue as his left hand poked the space between his eyes, “right here. Got it?”

“…so _are_ you actually gay or-”

“Jesus Christ. You don’t like every single woman and suddenly the world’s up your ass about your own business. Look, she’s like a sister to me. A sister I wouldn’t mind throwing to the wolves, given a decent motive to do so.”

“Alright, alright, fine. I get it.” An uneasy silence fell between the two, during which the first thing tripped out of Sanji’s unobserved lips. “But seriously, are you gay?”

Zoro stood up and left as Sanji tried to salvage the conversation by yelling to Zoro’s retreating figure. “I’m not trying to, I mean, I don’t care because, I, I was just curious!” 

_Fuck._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why yes, calling Sanji's cigarette a lollypop is a direct reference to the 4kids dub.
> 
> And yes, I am still miffed about that decision.
> 
> Sorry I couldn't fit a proper flashback of Ace in a Hula Girl costume; maybe a one-shot someday of the Halloween party?
> 
> (BTW, it's Zoro's 23rd birthday in this fic)


	12. A New Ally

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter was late, but I wanted to edit it a little more before posting and it was already getting late and I had work the next day because the army doesn't cancel work even when there's a pandemic (╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻

* * *

Sanji settled on the steps of his front porch and lit his first cigarette of the day, his reward for getting out of bed early and knocking out his lawn maintenance before noon. Granted there wasn’t much maintenance to perform with it being the tail end of fall, and it only took just under an hour for Sanji get it all done, but he still felt like he’d earned it.

He straightened his legs out and relished the dull stretch the was pulled from muscles that were sore from all the running around he’s had to do at work. Thanksgiving was finally over with, and he could relax a bit next week with a job well done until Christmas season picked business back into high gear. It was thoroughly exhausting work, but Sanji was pleased to have made so many customers, new and returning, happy.

While he was considering what special he’d like to offer Monday night, weighing between a dish featuring a staple favorite like salmon or trying something a bit more outside the box with pork chops, he heard someone approaching. Spandam’s footsteps crunched steadily over his dry grass and carried him to Sanji with a gait that was distinctly unhappy.

Sanji puzzled over his approach, distantly worrying that Spandam somehow knew he hadn’t mown his lawn today, despite it growing too slow to warrant weekly cutting, or that he was still angry to have seen Sanji at Zoro’s party. Then again, he could still be upset at Sanji over spilling that dessert onto him at Halloween or maybe even for cursing at his face during the HOA meeting. Maybe he found out that Sanji had helped Luffy egg his house. Or perhaps he had _finally_ figured out that just about every word his wife had exchanged with Sanji were promiscuous offers that he has tried very hard to forget.

Sanji grumbled around his cigarette, now soured by his mood. He really shouldn’t have so many options as to why his HOA president/neighbor could be pissed at him.

“Mr. Black,” Spandam finally spat, once he was within a few feet of him.

“Yes, Mr. Spandam?” Sanji asked, remaining where he sat.

Spandam made a gesture towards him, pointing out something about his person that that was obviously distasteful, but after glancing down at himself to make sure he somehow wasn’t indecently exposed, Sanji was at a total loss. He made the appropriate face at Spandam to convey this confusion.

“Don’t get snotty with me, boy. You’re letting Mr. Roronoa rub off on you.”

Sanji bit down on his cigarette, refusing to rise to Spandam passive aggressive words. If Spandam had a problem with whatever the hell he was currently doing, he was going to give it to him straight like a fucking adult!

"Your smoking, Mr. Black, is not something to be done in public.”

Sanji mind tumbled as he felt like he was suddenly in the Twilight Zone. Was this happening? Again? Didn’t he just, with Zoro, two weeks ago?

“Mr. Spandam,” Sanji felt really stupid having to say this. “I’m not in a public place.”

“You are within sight of a public road, therefore-”

Sanji stood up, blood pounding in his skull. His sudden height over Spandam was enough to make the man break his recitation long enough for Sanji’s words to fly without second thought.

“Are you serious? The same shit you were giving Zoro the other day? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Mr. Black, the fine for smoking in a public area is-”

Sanji sucked one final drag from his cigarette, pulling it nearly to the filter, before dropping it onto his sidewalk and stomping its ember out.

“Sorry, Mr. Spandam. I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t smoke.” He didn’t bother to hold in the fumes pouring from his mouth, the corner of his mouth twitching as the vapors swirled around Spandam’s face and pulled tears from his eyes.

“If you would excuse me.” Sanji nodded his head to Spandam and stepped around the sniveling irritant. He crossed his lawn in long, purposeful strides.

Sanji didn’t know why he wasn’t going into his own house. He didn’t know why he was approaching this one. And he sure as hell didn’t know why he knocked on the front door with five, clear raps of his knuckles.

Sanji could feel Spandam’s eyes watching him as he waited about half a minute for the slow, heavy footsteps to reach the door. It parted to reveal, no surprise, a frowning Zoro. He opened the screen door, but before he could say anything, Sanji asked:

“Got any booze?”

\----------

Not two minutes later, Sanji was sitting, shoes off, on the worn couch in Zoro’s living room waiting for Zoro to come back from the kitchen. He appraised the place while he sat there but failed to notice anything beyond a highly distracting accoutrement hanging above a waist high cabinet: three samurai swords. He was still staring at the weapons when Zoro returned with three bottles, one whiskey, one tequila, and one vodka.

“What, are you, don’t you have work?” Sanji asked, seeing Zoro set down two tumbler glasses.

“Don’t gotta be there until midnight.” Zoro replied with a shrug as he poured out a generous portion of vodka into each glass.

He picked up both and held out the one in his right hand out expectantly. Sanji stared at the drink, his culinary sensibilities screaming profanities at the mere suggestion of imbibing it.

“Um, I usually don’t drink straight liquor.” He tried to come up with a polite way to ask for wine or beer.

“Trust me, your face was asking for this.” Zoro smirked and physically forced the glass into his hands. He clinked the edges of his glass to Sanji’s and swallowed a mouthful without pause. Sanji tried to do the same and quelled a cough through sheer willpower. He’d have the one drink and go. Just enough to take the edge off, talk shit about Spandam, and then leave to make dinner.

Simple enough.

\----------

Three glasses in and an hour and a half of complaining about Spandam later, Sanji could feel the alcohol hitting him a bit. But he wasn’t too far gone, of course, he wasn’t some lightweight.

“Hey I, I’m sorry, mkay?” Sanji’s apologized, not insincere despite how his big tongue and loose lips didn’t want to cooperate at the moment. “At, at the party, I did-didn’t mean to ‘ffend you. I just wanted to, to know, you know?”

“I know, Curlicue.” Zoro said, and he seemed to mean it as well. “A lot of people do.”

“…I want to ask, but I shound-” he held down a belch, “-I shouldn’t?”

"Yep”

"Cuz it’s private?” Sanji snickered, private, like private parts, like for sex, because they were talking about sexualities. Man, he was funny.

Zoro nodded, rubbing his thumb along the grooves of his tumbler glass. “Yeah,”

Sanji nodded, glad that if he couldn’t be good with the neighbor who ran the HOA, then at least he could be good with the neighbor who actually wasn’t half-bad. Just two weeks ago Zoro had stomped away from Sanji and didn’t talk to him again. The party had been kind of awkward because the only other person he could recognize was the stripper engineer.

So he'd left.

And then, then the next time he sees Zoro, he invites Sanji into his home during his time off to drink with him.

"Why’re you s’nice?” Sanji asked his glass.

He heard Zoro scoff. “How the hell has anything I’ve done come across as nice?”

“First meetin’, borrow lawnmor, Veterans thing, now.” He sipped a bit on the contents of his glass. Whiskey now, since they ran out of vodka. It tasted kind of smokey. Like smoke. Cigarettes. Man, he’d like a cigarette. Did Zoro have any…wait, he had some! He had one this morning!

He moved to get them from his jacket pocket, only he wasn’t wearing it.

“I wasn’t trying to be nice, not really anyway, but, I guess I was kind of worried you’d be like the guy who used to live in your house.” Zoro sucked down the last of his whiskey, but still kept the empty glass in his hand to fumble with.

Sanji, meanwhile, remembered he didn’t have his jacket because it was the weekend, and the jacket was a weekday clothing. Right. So where did he keep his cigarettes in weekend clothing?

Oh wait, Zoro was talking again. He’s been nice to you. Listen to him.

“He was a real asshole, some army officer I think ‘cuz he had his rank on his mailbox: Captain Morgan. He was nearly as bad as Spandam about a lot of stuff, but he’d sooner get the police involved than HOA guidelines. Always called noise complaints on me, usually in the middle of Saturday because I used to let Kidd store his drums in my garage and practice there before he got the new place.”

Sanji grunted in disapproval. Back when he lived in an apartment, he had this neighbor above him. The guy was loud. So loud. Like he rearranged his living room every night. Then the asshole made a noise complaint at the super because Sanji was watching a movie too loud one Friday night. One of the reasons he left the apartment for a house.

“One time,” Zoro continued, “he called the cops because my Superbowl party was too loud.” A cruel smirk, something almost sharp, stretched across his face. “Only for the cops to mistake _his_ Superbowl party to be the one the noise complaint was about. He sent them over to my house, telling them to arrest me for disturbing the peace or whatever.”

Zoro leaned forward and poured more whiskey into his glass. Sanji gulped the rest of his, had to keep up, and held it out. Zoro refilled Sanji’s glass along with his and handed it back. Their fingers brushed as Zoro made sure Sanji had a good grip, which Sanji couldn’t help but roll his eyes at. He was a little tipsy, not incompetent.

Sanji took a sip and closed his eyes, imagining the scene: a guy looking like Spandam but with a crew cut shouting with spit flying everywhere as he pointed to a quieter house further down the street; then the police officers would be confused but thank the weirdo for his time and head to the correct address all while laughing at him.

“So anyway, I open up my door to a handful of cops led by this fucking huge asshole with an undercut. Invited them in to watch the game since we were in the final quarter and I kind of thought it was ridiculous that they were missing it because Captain Morgan was being a dick.”

Sanji chuckled, remembering Zoro shrugging off the idea of a noise complaint and playing an hour of metal music last Labor Day. He stopped laughing to drink some more. Nice. Smokey. Oh, wait that’s right, his smokes. Why did he stop- that’s right, talking. Zoro was talking.

“Don’t get me wrong, you’re kind of a dick too.” Zoro snickered.

Sanji sat up a bit and tried to string together exactly how he _wasn’t_ a dick and how _Zoro_ was actually a dick, but Zoro spoke before he could.

Just like a dick would.

“But you’re like this anxious, high strung bastard who can’t take a joke.” Zoro nearly drained the contents of his glass in one swing. “Or at least you _were_ until you became a dirty little rule breaker. I mean, smoking on your front porch, how could you?”

“That’s nothin’.” Sanji could barely feel the smile on his face, but he knew it was big. “I egged Spandam’s house.”

Zoro spat a bit of whiskey down his shirt and Sanji snorted as Zoro coughed around his accident.

“That was _you_?”

“Well, was me like, like with the toilet paper was you,” Sanji was about to take another drink until, with a sudden thrill, he remembered a detail, “but I threw, like, six!”

“Wow, six eggs,” Zoro laughed, “better lock you up before you start going crazy and mange to toss the entire carton.”

Sanji smiled into his glass. This was really nice. When he’s at work, he’s too busy making food and screaming at the other chefs. When he’s with Usopp and Robin, all they talk about is their exciting lives. And it was exciting. Usopp was directing things, like with actors and stuff and Robin was like, like Indiana Jones but with boobs. But this, this wasn’t something Sanji was really used to. Drinking and shooting shit, and it didn’t matter what he was saying but it was…it was fun.

He may have a big ass mortgage on a house that was too big without a wife and kids to fill the space in a neighborhood run by a capital a Asshole who was starting to hate Sanji as much as he hated the moss-head bastard drinking beside him, but right now, at this exact moment, Sanji really couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Because this was nice too.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, writing drunk Sanji was hard. I tried to make the descriptions more simplified so hopefully it conveyed his inebriation okay?


	13. HOA Says No Gay Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn't post last week. I was sad.   
> But I'm better now. :)

* * *

Sanji accepted the bedazzled nail gun from Perona and climbed up the ladder to reach the wooden beam that ran above her porch. What he really wanted to do was go inside and sit by a fireplace with some spiked hot chocolate and fawn over how adorable Perona was in her striped stockings, red dress, and Santa hat. Maybe he’d playfully pull the rim of her cap below her eyes and while she was blindfolded lean in for a quick peck on her cheek, only for Perona to leave her impromptu blindfold on and return his kiss with vigor. What remained of their drinks would go cold as they lied on the couch and-

A cold gust of wind shook the warm thoughts from his mind and reminded Sanji that he had come over to Perona’s home with the offer to help her decorate, so he really couldn’t be surprised when he found himself doing exactly that.

He finished climbing the ladder and balanced the nail gun in one hand while untangling the string of lights hoisted over his shoulder. He achieved the task with minimal cursing and nailed the first section in place while Perona unfolded a net of dark red lights onto the lawn.

Perona paused her arrangement of a net to cast a glance up at him. Her lips were quirked at an adorable angle and even though Sanji wasn’t in any danger of falling from the ladder, his footing was a little less certain under her attention.

“You alright? Do you need me to hold the ladder?”

“No, no, I’m fine.” Sanji assured her, bolstered when he saw her respondent smile. “I’ve got to admit though, I’m surprised by the decorations.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s just not what I expected.”

“How so?” Her tone implied some sort of insinuation on his part, which he squashed with a quick shrug and shift of tone from teasing to docile.

“I just thought you’d have gone all out, given how much you put up for Halloween.”

And her house had truly been a marvel then. Despite the bright pink paintjob, her front yard –come nightfall—was the love child of Adams Family and Castlevania having a nightmare after binge watching Tales from the Crypt.

Her house still held the remnants of that Halloween spirit even now, with a Christmas wreath on her door with big yellow eyes and sharp teeth and a purple tree decorated with skeletons and bats and pumpkins on her porch. But when it came to the rest of her house and yard, it was decidedly less.

Perona nodded, a pout on her lips, and she slung the net of red lights onto her boxwood bushes. Sanji secured another section of green lights while she worked.

“I would have,” Perona grumbled, “but HOA rules say we can only use Christmas colors for our lights, and they can’t go over 100 total feet.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, ever since Tesoro halfway blinded his street with his light show two years ago, there’s been a limit to how much we can put up. As for the colors, well, I guess Spandam is afraid someone’s going to make Christmas too gay with rainbow lights.”

“And was that someone you by any chance?”

“Last year.” She teased with a wink and her tongue peeking out from between her cherry red lips.

Sanji smiled at the image of a bright pink house covered in rainbow lights and knew the neighborhood had been robbed. He watched her fiddle with the lights to better distribute the red bulbs before planting her hands on her hips to admire a job well done. It reminded him of the newer chefs at the Baratie when they finally managed to artfully arrange the fruit on a slice of cheesecake.

“It gets worse. Rules also say they can’t go up more than 15 days before the holiday and must come down in less than 15 days after.” Perona added as she pulled another net of red lights from her box.

“You’re kidding, right?” Sanji groused. Whatever passed for hope nowadays still reared its head every so often, but Sanji knew better than to buy into it and was proven correct when Perona nodded her head with finality.

“Mhm, and so you may be thinking _well that’s just a fucking hassle. I just won’t put lights up then_.”

Sanji nodded as he nailed another section of lights securely to the wooden frame.

“But when I decided to pass on decorating this year, I got a letter from Spandam saying it reflected poorly on the neighborhood if one of the houses wasn’t decorated for Christmas.”

“No way, was there a fine?”

Perona snickered, her adorable little laugh briefly warming Sanji before another bitter winter gust knocked it away.

“He was going to before I threatened to sue him for saying I had to decorate for Christmas.” She smiled, her cheeks rosy from the cold. “I told him I don’t celebrate Christmas because I’m Jewish.”

Sanji cast an ostentatious glance towards the Halloween-Christmas tree on her porch. Perona followed his look and chuckled.

“I was raised Jewish, but am actually an atheist. And, well, it’s a bit easier to decorate a tree than a menorah.”

Sanji nodded and finished hanging the last section of green lights. He climbed down the later and assessed his work, pleased that his spacing was even and the lights lined the framework without sagging between his nails.

Even better was how the green complimented the pink paintjob that had remained despite Spandam’s vehement protests against it. Turned out changing the HOA charter was a hassle and a half, so Perona was safe in her color choice for now. When Sanji had asked her what she was going to do when Spandam eventually got enough votes to add pink to the list of prohibited house colors, Perona simply tossed a curl of hair behind her shoulder with an airy shrug and said ‘red I suppose’.

Her resolute determination combined with the haughtiness of a royal had pulled a promise to help repaint from Sanji’s lips before he could even breathe.

Finished with the beam above the porch, Sanji moved on to bordering her windows with more green lights and then helping her hang giant Christmas ornaments on a bare oak tree in her front yard. She brought out hot cocoa spiked with rum just as he was finishing the assembly of an inflatable snowman and as they sat on the steps of her front porch, Sanji was happy that he got at least this much out of his ideal scenario.

The sun was close to setting when he made his way back home, but he was determined to at least start his decorations before Sunday, so he dragged a ladder from his garage and retrieved his own nail gun. One minor battle with the plastic packaging later and he had a string of bright, white lights to bring up to the roof.

And as Sanji climbed the ladder to decorate his dormer windows, he briefly fantasized about strangling Spandam with the Christmas lights in hand, but ultimately decided that wouldn’t really be in the spirit of the season.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone curious, Zoro fulfils the mandatory decoration requirement with a single green light above his door.


	14. Stupid Bowl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated in a while. I had to focus on my certification exam for work. But I'm back now!

* * *

Christmas came and went with little fanfare, and New Years with even less. Christmas involved a small party at his house, a slightly nerve-wracking experience with the old geezer coming and critiquing, that was ultimately pleasant but uneventful.

New Year’s involved a large party hosted by Usopp in his city penthouse. He had shared a midnight kiss with a gorgeous woman who had a flower in her hair and an intoxicating gleam in her eye. They had exchanged social media before he left, but when Sanji messaged her on Instagram the next day –she was a fucking Flamenco dancer, how hot—she didn’t reply. One week of dead air and one-sided messages was enough for Sanji to take a hint and he moped for the appropriate amount of time afterwards.

Which was to say, until a month later. Might have gone on even longer had his wallowing not been interrupted with a harsh banging on his front door. Half expecting police due to the brutality of the knock, he was only mildly surprised to see Zoro instead.

“Superbowl, my house, come on.”

Zoro barely even gave Sanji time to put on shoes before he was dragging Sanji across both lawns and into his house. It was lively inside, with most of the people concentrated in a living room that was familiar through his hazy memory of a late November evening drinking there. A projector had been set up on the coffee table and was broadcasting the game on the opposing wall. Sanji wasn’t really familiar with the teams playing, but he readily started to support the efforts of the team Zoro wasn’t rooting for.

After two beers –light, he’d made sure—and a bowl of dip that was disgustingly cheesy and delicious he was joined on the couch by a hulking man who made the cushion dip underneath his weight. Roughly the same height as Franky, who was in the corner “fixing” Zoro’s stereo for the upcoming halftime show in an effort to make the even more **_SUPAH_** , but easily twice as broad, the man kept his gaze on the projection across the room.

Sanji, meanwhile, remained on high alert. He recognized sniper eyes from a few of the cooks and stock boys who worked at Baratie, and he was wary about that thousand-yard stare falling onto him. Snipers were a particular oddity, even amongst the rest of the infantry, and he refrained from so much as shifting in an effort to avoid the man’s attention. The plastic fork in the man’s large hand could find itself buried in a number of areas of Sanji’s body if the guy felt even remotely threatened.

So to say that his heart nearly jumped out of his clenched throat when Zoro shouldered the man from the side, pushing him into Sanji, didn’t mean that Sanji was jumpy. Not at all. He just had a healthy respect for people who were built like tanks and had the same disposition of a soldier who had watched their entire platoon die and then killed the remaining enemy with their bare hands.

Sanji could defend himself fairly well, but how was he supposed to beat that?

“Glad to see you outside of the station for once.” Zoro cackled, clinking his beer against the one the man already had in hand.

“Stop acting like a criminal. All you ever do is see me outside the station.” The man grumbled, his voice low and rough but more articulate than Sanji had imagined.

“Hey now, what about last month?”

“It doesn’t count when you’re picking someone else up.”

“I mean, I could have been in there with Kidd too, I just run fast enough.”

The man beside Sanji scoffed and shook his head. He turned to Sanji and smirked. “Please tell me you aren’t friends with this low-life.”

“Uh, yeah, I live just two doors down.”

“Hmph, got shit taste in friends I see.”

“Look whose house you’re in and whose beer you’re drinking before you start casting stones, Smoker.” Zoro chuckled before perching himself on the couch arm.

“Never said I had good taste, Roronoa.” Smoker grunted as he stood up.

“That dip you made says otherwise, Smoker, so don’t let anyone convince you!” Zoro shouted at his back as he headed into the kitchen.

“So, how do you know him? From work?”

“Who, Smoker? Nah. Remember when I told you about Captain Morgan calling the cops on me for a noise complaint?”

Barely.

“Yeah.”

“Well, that’s him. Been inviting him to my Superbowl party ever since as a little tradition.”

“Ah, I see.”

There was a pause in the conversation, punctuated by the both of them drinking from their bottles. Thankfully, before the silence could cross over into awkward territory, a cry of victory from the corner caught the room’s attention.

“Everyone, it’s time for the **_SUPAH_** Super Bowl Halftime Show!” Franky shouted before plugging in his final cord and encasing the room in a surround sound of some pop singer the league had chosen for that year. With the societal demand for conversation gone, Sanji allowed himself to sit back, relax, and try to forget about that Flamenco dancing beauty he’d struck out with last month.

Even if those backup dancers made it awfully hard.

\----------

After the end of the game, the score of which Sanji intended to bring up as often as possible to rub the loss of Zoro’s team in his face, Sanji was settled comfortably on the couch and had half a mind –which was all that was functioning in his exhaustion—to just pass out there. Snapping fingers in his face forced him to peel open his eyes, and he grimaced at the mug he was faced with.

“Come on, I got a guest room. It’ll be easier on your back.” Zoro motioned for Sanji to follow him and headed for the hall to the left.

“What, you calling me old or something?” Sanji moaned, sluggishly rolling himself onto his feet.

“You mean to tell me you felt _good_ after sleeping on that thing? That piece of shit’s been there since I was like ten.” Zoro turned into the first room on the right and flipped on the light switch.

Sanji followed him into the room and took in the spread of exercise equipment, barely able to parse out a single bed in the corner beside the rack for free weights.

“What the- there’s a gym in the clubhouse. Why don’t you just use that?” Sanji griped, heading for the bed and toeing off his shoes.

“Um, there’s a woman there…and I…well I don’t really want to run into her.”

“Someone like Bethany,” Sanji grimaced as he sat down. “Or someone _worse_ than Bethany?”

“Nah, not like that. She, she’s just, she’ll come up to you in the gym and tell you that you’re not using the equipment right. She’ll give you advice on how you should be working out when you didn’t ask for it, challenge you to fights-”

“Wait, challenge you to fights?”

“Swordfights. I was practicing my katas one morning on the deck and she saw me. Ever since it’s all _I challenge you_ any time she so much as sees me.”

“So you fought a woman?”

“Fucking relax, Eyebrows. Didn’t I just say _she’s_ the one bugging me about it? Besides, not that I have anything against fighting a woman or anything, but I don’t fight her. She just-”

Zoro stopped so suddenly, Sanji glanced over to make sure nothing had happened. But there was no discernable reason for the man to have fallen silent. His eyes did lose a bit of their focus, and Sanji wasn’t sure why, wasn’t sure if it was his place to point it out. Friends were meant to respect boundaries, right? And they were kind of friends. Then again, a friend was also supposed to listen to each other’s problems, assuming there was a problem to be listened to. For all Sanji knew, Zoro had just lost interest and didn’t feel like talking about this woman anymore.

Sanji grit his teeth. He was disappointed there wasn’t a cigarette to chew the butt of and instead bit the bullet.

“You alright?”

Zoro blinked once, then his head twitched a bit as he came from wherever his mind had gone. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Tashigi, the gym woman, she… she just reminds me of someone.”

Even Sanji could tell not to touch that with a twelve-foot pole. He sat on the bed, mind racing for a change in topic. As usual, the first thing he thought of was the common enemy that had started their friendship. Shit talking that fucking moron was always a lot of fun, so he focused on that.

“So what’s the deal between you and Spandam anyways. Why does he hate you so much?”

“What, you don’t have an idea yet?” A smirk was playing on the edge of Zoro’s features and the world seemed to realign again.

“I mean, I get that you kinda go against his rules, but so does Franky, and Perona…and even me now. But that guy even hates Luffy less than you. What in the hell did you do to piss him off so bad?”

Zoro sighed and sat down on the bed. He flopped backwards, bouncing a bit from the impact and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Well. I’m not really sure. If I had to guess, it all started with that tree.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Low key, I actually really like Sanji x Viola as a canon One Piece ship and wanted to include just a small hint of that here.


	15. Span-done With This

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a flashback chapter told from Zoro's POV.

* * *

Zoro exited his house and cast a cursory glare at the blazing sun before dragging his push-mower out of his garage. A moving truck, the third that week, rolled into a neighbor’s driveway a few minutes into his mowing and was shortly joined by a well-maintained, silver sedan. The additional presence of a car suggested that the owners of the house were finally moving in and Zoro quickly lost interest and refocused on the song blasting through his earbuds as he continued mowing.

Zoro had a lot of mixed feelings about this Grand Line Neighborhood that had sprung up around his childhood home. Each perfectly structured house was a handful of salt that rubbed into the gaping wound left behind by his father’s death. A wound that had cut deeply enough to reopen the scars made by his sister’s death.

Hospital bills weren’t cheap, and funerals just costed way too damn much. Selling the large tracts of marshland around their house was the only way Zoro could stay financially afloat. The money was a fair trade for land that was useless save for privacy. Zoro was good enough at avoiding people, he didn’t really need the benefit of physical distance. So selling the excess acres seemed like the best option.

And the benefits of the neighborhood sounded promising. Thanks to the contract his friend Nami had helped him go over, his home was grandfathered into the neighborhood benefits without having to adhere to some of the home requirements. He didn’t have to change his home foundations to sit a certain distance from the pavement. He didn’t have to replace his mailbox. He didn’t even have to add shutters to his windows for “aesthetic purposes”. Even his property tax would stay the same. And having access to the amenities of the community, namely a pool and the clubhouse gym, were promising.

All in all. The circumstances sucked, but Zoro felt optimistic about what was to come.

He finished cutting the front lawn and toweled off the sweat running down his face with the tee-shirt he’d removed halfway through mowing. He lied down on the freshly cut grass, tugged the earbuds out, and sighed as the hot sun seeped into his sore muscles.

“You’re so hot.”

Zoro’s eyes peeked open, cautious under the threat of sunlight, but quickly widened to full size once he realized a shadow was looming over his head.

“Excuse me?” Zoro asked, hoping he’d simply misheard.

“I said you’re hot, dear. Would you like something to drink?”

Ah, not misheard, but misunderstood. Easy enough.

“Um, yeah, thanks.” Zoro sat up and accepted the glass of lemonade from a heavy-set woman in a floral dress. Its glass surface was chill to the touch and the condensation ran down his hand onto his wrist. The woman’s fingertips slipped along the dorsal of his hand and Zoro’s grip flinched under the caress, but thankfully the glass didn’t break.

“Careful, I’m very wet.”

**What.**

“What?”

“It’s very wet.” She repeated, gesturing to the glass. “Don’t let it slip.”

“Er, right, thanks.” Zoro took a sip and found the lemonade to be overly sweet, likely prepacked. It reminded him a bit of the Kool-Aid that Dad had occasionally allowed him and Kuina to indulge in. He allowed himself to smile at the sudden memory.

“Is it good?”

Oh, the woman was still there.

“Yeah, er, very sweet.”

“Just like you.” This time her fingertips grazed his neck. His heart pounded against his ribs and his pulse tripled in anticipation of an attack. Zoro leaned away and got to his feet, willing his body to calm down from the complete lack of threat.

“I’m sorry, are you ticklish?” The woman giggled.

Zoro was personally of the opinion that people should never giggle. It was an annoying pitch of laughter that wasn’t charming and was barely tolerable even with children, let alone a woman in their upper thirties.

The woman smiled and stepped closer to him, leaning so that her neckline hung low enough for her bra to peek out. “Or are you just sensitive?”

“I don’t like people near me.” Zoro replied, making his statement as clear and pointed as possible.

“Sounds lonely.” The woman pouted. “Don’t tell me a man like yourself never has any fun?” She extended her hand again, this time low and aiming for his abdomen. Perhaps she was more of a threat than he’d anticipated

“Not with you I don’t.” Zoro said, catching her wrist. She flexed her fingertips, stretching to reach his skin. He tightened his hold and scowled when she hummed under the pressure. He carefully pushed her arm back to her side and released his grip.

He held the half-finished drink out and she took it, balancing it delicately between manicured fingertips, and pouted. Zoro withheld reacting –certain that an urge to punch her in the mouth wasn’t the reaction she was hoping to stir in him—and waited for her to get the hint and leave. After nearly a minute of silence, she sighed and sashayed back to her house, casting one final, lingering look at him before entering the front door.

Zoro really hoped that wouldn’t set a precedent.

\----------

Three weeks later, Zoro answered his doorbell with hesitancy. The past few weeks, that neighbor of his –Bethany—had been visiting him on a near daily basis with increasingly ridiculous requests.

Asking Zoro to help her rearrange some furniture because her husband wasn’t around to help? Reasonable. Though the way she stared at him made the back of his neck itch and his skin clammy.

Another day she asked him to mow their lawn, since her husband had yet to purchase a riding mower to replace the one that broke. Zoro kept seeing the curtains move out of the corner of his eye and resolved to keep his shirt on no matter how disgustingly hot and humid that day was.

And just two days ago, the woman had asked him to fix a leaky pipe for her. Zoro didn’t know how she knew he could do such a thing, was hoping it was just a lucky guess, but agreed. While he was under the sink something distinctly hand-like had grabbed his butt, resulting in a nasty bruise on the back of his head when he’d jerked away.

So, it was understandable that Zoro checked the window, saw a man, checked again, saw a man, and still opened the door with reluctance.

“Ah, good, you’re home.” The man on his front porch rumbled. The scar stretching across the bridge of his nose crinkled as he smiled.

Zoro hovered in the doorway, hand on the door in case he needed to slam it shut.

“And, who’re you?”

“Oh, right, hadn’t introduced myself, have I? You can just call me Crocodile.”

“Okay,”

“And I was wondering if I could get your help removing the tree in my front yard.” He pointed over to his house and Zoro leaned far enough out his door to see a medium sized oak with far reaching branches. Some of the branches hung directly over the house, so Zoro could see why someone wouldn’t be too keen on having it around come hurricane season. 

“I understand, it being the weekend, that it’s likely your day off, and I would have done it myself, but…”

Zoro looked back at the man, this time at the hand he held up. The very stiff hand. A hand that- oh, it was a prosthetic. He considered the man’s tall frame, the scars, the fake hand, and the overall demeanor and decided it best not to ask. He knew enough people at the shipyard to know not to pry. Hell, most people would probably even consider himself to be one of those people.

“Sure, let me get my stuff and I’ll be right over.”

“Perfect, um, how much would you-”

Zoro held up his hand, gesturing for the other to put his wallet away.

“Just give me some beer to drink while I work and we’re square.”

Crocodile nodded once and descended his porch with heavy steps that made Zoro wonder if one of his legs was a prosthetic too. But the thought quickly passed and Zoro headed to his shed for his chainsaw, a shovel, and a thick chain to uproot the trunk with.

The tree cut easily, half-dead and rotting on the inside as Zoro quickly discovered, and while the work was tedious and grueling, Zoro was more pleased to be doing this than lounging around the house and pretending to enjoy his day off. Four beers in and with nothing but the stump left, Zoro went to work with his shovel. Crocodile came outside around this time and talked while Zoro dug. He was in the middle of a story about his squad being stranded in some desert village when Spandam stalked over.

Spandam may not have been as visible in Zoro’s life as Bethany, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t any better. What Spandam lacked in presence, he made up for in bullheaded persistence. Zoro could almost admire such a trait, that is, if it weren’t focused on the stupidest things.

Letter after letter stuck in his mailbox or tapped to his door about his gutters, his shingles, his hedges, his laundry line, his driveway, his trash bins, his paintjob, his truck, even his goddamn _curtains_. Most of them could be fielded by that grandfather clause in the contract, but every so often Spandam was able to finagle one of his ridiculous complaints around it. Zoro had never felt so hounded in his entire life.

“What, if I may ask, is going on here?” Spandam asked, somehow managing to add a pompous sniff to the question.

“No, you can’t ask.” Crocodile snapped at Spandam before Zoro could so much as pause his shoveling. With a shrug, he decided to leave Spandam to Crocodile and move the last few mounds of dirt.

Spandam’s indignant squawking coaxed a smile to Zoro’s face, and a glance proved Crocodile sporting a similar, if subdued, grin. He tossed the shovel aside, climbed out of the hole, and started wrapping the chain while Crocodile continued to dodge Spandam’s questions.

“I’ll have you know, Mr. Crocodile, that all lawn maintenance in the Grand Line Neighborhood is to be conducted by CP-9 as they are the sole HOA approved lawn care company.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of those schmucks. Wondered how in the hell they were the _only_ HOA approved organization when I can name off maybe a dozen more qualified companies off the top of my head.”

Spandam’s face was getting red and Zoro choked back a snicker. He didn’t cover it quite enough, if the glare Spandam shot at him was any indication.

“But then, I did some digging, and I answered my own question.” Crocodile continued. “Of course CP-9 is the only lawn care company this place allows. It’s run by your cousin, after all.”

Zoro gave the chain a yank and, when it held fast, he hooked up the other end to his truck. Crocodile continued to rant about how he wasn’t going to indulge in Spandam’s nepotism while Zoro worked, but Spandam stepped in front of Zoro before he could climb into the cab of his truck.

“Mr. Roronoa, unless you want to be fined for conducting skilled labor without the proper permits, then you will not take one step further.”

“Wow, I’m a skilled laborer? Thanks, but flattery works as well for you as it does for your wife.” Zoro sidestepped Spandam as he tried to parse out the meaning behind Zoro’s response and started his truck.

“Roronoa!” Spandam screeched. “If you don’t stop this right now-”

Zoro caught Spandam’s eye and floored the gas. The truck lurched forward, uprooting the trunk with it. Zoro couldn’t withhold his smirk as Spandam’s face contorted into expressions he’d never seen on a human being before, and he just let himself laugh as each face became more hilarious then the last. Zoro could hardly remember the last time he'd laughed so hard.

Maybe Spandam wasn’t completely worthless after all.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crocodile moved out seven months later, to a larger house in the neighborhood. His house was later bought by Perona. Every year, on the anniversary of the tree removal, Crocodile sends Zoro an exceptionally nice sake.


	16. Morning After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. Certain sections of this chapter just DID NOT want to cooperate. Hopefully I smoothed it out enough to not be too noticeable. (Plus I just started HxH and you know how it is)

* * *

The bed was warm, but the firm pillow propping his neck at an uncomfortable angle was less than ideal. Sanji kept his eyes closed against the late morning light, hoping to fall back asleep after he adjusted his position, but no amount of shifting seemed to work.

Relinquishing defeat, Sanji opened his eyes so he could reconfigure his pillow layout only to see that he wasn’t laying on a pillow. He was resting on a shoulder. Zoro’s shoulder.

Ah.

He didn’t really remember everything from last night, certainly not falling asleep, but all his and Zoro’s clothes seemed to be in place so that was a good sign. Right. They just probably fell asleep while they were talking. This was normal. Nothing to freak out over. Especially since he was a mature, adult who was definitely used to sleepovers because he most certainly had a ton as a kid because he wasn’t too busy learning how to cook to pay back the man who had basically saved his life when he took Sanji in as a toddler. Yeah. No biggie.

After successfully suppressing his panic at the unexpected wake-up, Sanji extricated himself from the twisted sheets and limbs before heading to the bathroom. By the time he came back to the room, looking for his shoes, Zoro was sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Want any coffee?” He asked as he rolled out of bed and onto his feet.

“Um, yeah, sure,” Sanji replied, a little unsure how to react since the last time he had spent the night, he was busy rushing out to make it to work on time. It didn’t really occur to him to fabricate a similar excuse until he was sitting at Zoro’s kitchen table with a mug of coffee –with a splash of half-and-half— but he’d also decided there was really no harm in hanging out a bit longer. Especially since Zoro seemed to spring for a decent dark roast.

“Don’t you have to be getting to work soon?” Zoro asked conversationally as he hoisted himself up onto the kitchen countertop. He took a sip from his own mug of coffee while Sanji, curious as to how late it actually was, glanced over to the clock built into the oven to see it was well past 10.

“Hm, normally I would be elbow deep in the breakfast rush, but we never open before dinner the day after the Superbowl. Everyone’s usually too busy being drunk, hungover, or cleaning up to come in.”

“Oh, that’s right, you’re a cook, aren’t you?”

“I’m a _chef_.”

“What’s the difference?”

“What’s the- tch, it’s the difference between a mechanic and an engineer.”

Zoro held his hands up in surrender, but it was clear from his twisted smirk that it was done in mockery. “My bad, didn’t realize that was a sacrilegious mistake.”

“Well you’d have known if you’d have ever eaten any of my food.”

Sanji was about to take another sip from his mug before aborting the action, sitting up straight and rigid as he suddenly realized what he’d said.

“Wait. You’ve never actually had my food before, have you?”

“Uh, no why?”

“You knew I was a chef and never fucking asked?”

Zoro shrugged, as cavalier as ever. “I’m a grown ass man. I can cook for myself.”

“Whatever, budge up,” Sanji stood and shooed Zoro off the counter. He started to rummage through his cupboards and fridge, gathering the necessary ingredients for a proper breakfast.

It took two elbows to the ribs and one sharp kick to the thigh for Zoro to stop hovering over his shoulder and go sit at the table. The kitchen was quiet, save for the drumming of Zoro’s fingers on the wood and the soft scratch of the whisk against the ceramic bowl.

Used to the hustle and bustle of the Baratie, Sanji struck up a conversation about the first thing to come to mind, which happened to be a subject most often on his mind: love.

“So you got any plans coming up for the 14th?”

“The 14th? That’s this Saturday, right?”

“Yeah,” he set aside the eggs to begin the hollandaise sauce.

“Don’t think so. Why, you inviting me to something?”

Sanji coughed as he accidentally swallowed some spit in a surprised gasp. “No, I’m not asking you out.”

“Asking me- oh shit that’s right, Valentine’s Day. Forgot. No, I don’t have any plans.”

Sanji stood at the counter, measuring the lemon juice as he tapped his foot impatiently. After adding the lemon juice to the melted butter and egg yolk, he set down the empty measuring cup with a touch more force than necessary.

“The polite thing to do, is to ask me if I have plans as well, Mosshead.”

“Ah, I kinda assumed you didn’t, after that little rant you went on about the Flamenco dancer last night.”

“She happened over a month ago!” Sanji snapped, nearly spilling his hollandaise as he jerked his head to properly glare at the man over his shoulder.

“Still sounded pretty fresh, the way you were crying into my shoulder and all.”

“I was not crying!” Sanji protested, despite having very little memory between Zoro’s story about Crocodile and waking up that morning. Zoro’s answering smirk sent Sanji’s blood pressure to levels he hadn’t thought possible.

“Seriously though, if you don’t have a date for Valentine’s, and you want one, I might be able to set you up.” Zoro offered.

Sanji cast another glare at the man, gaging whether this supposed olive branch was too good to be true, and took the bait.

“Why,” he decided to test first.

“You’re cooking me breakfast.” Zoro shrugged.

“Shut up, you let me crash here. It’s the least I could do.”

“Okay, then consider it a favor you can pay me back for later.”

Sanji paused, weighing his options, and decided there was no harm in at least hearing his offer to the end. “Who did you have in mind?”

“My friend Nami.”

Sanji’s head whipped around fast enough to crack the kink in his neck. “The same Nami you apparently hate?”

Zoro chuckled through a smile, but didn’t meet Sanji’s eyes, apparently too enthralled by the top corner of the kitchen cabinet.

“I don’t know,” Sanji said, turning back to the stove as he began frying the bacon. “After that _glowing_ review you gave of her back on Veteran’s Day, I’m not sure if we’re going to work out.”

“I mean, that’s just what **I** think about her. Tons of people like her, for some reason.”

Sanji turned around and pointed at Zoro with the spatula in his hand. “It’s shit like that you keep adding on that makes me worried.”

Zoro scoffed and went so far as to roll his eyes before folding his arms over his chest. “Look, she’s attractive, I guess.”

Sanji threw the spatula at Zoro’s head, pleased at the solid thunk it made against his skull. He searched through the drawer until he found another utensil that could work in fishing out the bacon strips when they were done.

“Stop tacking all that shit on if you’re trying to make her appealing. God, you’re the _worst_ wingman ever. I almost feel sorry for the poor girl and I’ve never even met her!”

Zoro groaned, clearly annoyed with Sanji’s reasonable argument, and sluggishly got to his feet. He tossed the spatula into the sink and pulled his phone from his sweatpants pocket. He spent a few seconds scrolling before turning the screen to Sanji, who had to pause in adding the eggs to the boiling water because _holy shit that woman was **hot**_.

“That’s Nami. It’s the most recent one I’ve got, but she might’ve cut her hair again for all I know.”

Honestly she could have shaven her head for all Sanji cared. Not to downplay her gorgeous locks of fiery orange hair that Sanji just wanted to run his hands through, but the bone structure on this woman’s face was something angelic. High cheekbones just barely peeking out from a soft, round face that looked so gentle and kind. Big brown eyes that captured his soul and held it tight. Plump pink lips that Sanji desperately wanted to see move around the shape of his name. He just might be in love.

“Jesus Christ, Curly-brow. It’s just a damn photo.”

_Shit, did I say some of that out loud?_

Sanji coughed into his hand and turned back to the food, trying to downplay his enthusiasm, but Zoro’s bewildered expression gave him doubts on his success.

“So, um, what’s she like?”

“She goes to East Blue University, economics major. She’s in her, third year I think? Yeah, finishing up her third year. She’s on the sailing team, so she’s pretty good on navigation and shit. Really good with money, helps me with stock market when I can convince her to give me tips. Um, oh yeah, really good at drinking. She likes the frilly cocktails best, but can drink most guys under the table if she really wanted to.”

“Hm, she sounds really interesting, actually.” Sanji placed some English muffins in the toaster and fished the eggs out of the pot. “I used to go out on the water a lot when I was younger, so we can talk about that. And I took some bartending classes a couple years ago, so maybe I could make her something.”

“Make her something? What, you’re going to cook for her on your date?” Zoro asked, his voice just too close to sneering for Sanji to ignore. He shot his foot out, relishing in catching Zoro off guard and meeting his shin.

“Why not?” Sanji asked blithely as Zoro leaned against the counter and massaged his leg. “I’m a chef, after all.”

“Tch, you’re gonna have to make some pretty fancy shit to impress Nami. The woman’s got expensive tastes.”

“Hm, like this?” Sanji held a plate out for Zoro to take. Two perfectly poached eggs nestled on a few thick strips of bacon and a well-toasted English muffin and generously coated with a home-made hollandaise sauce. A simple eggs benedict, but Zoro seem impressed all the same. Without moving to the kitchen table, he pulled a fork from the drawer and took a bite where he stood. Eyebrows shot up to his hairline and his mouth stretched in a smile, which morphed into rueful grin once he caught the smirk Sanji didn’t even try to hide.

“Yeah,” he conceded after another bite. “Like this.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone wondering, yes, this fic is still about the friendship between Sanji and Zoro. But why did you have them share a bed if they aren’t going to be together, some may ask.  
> Well that’s just because:  
> 1\. I am an absolute *fiend* for the bed sharing trope.  
> 2\. As much as I love the old “omg there was only one bed” romance cliché (God knows I could read a million of those fics) I think it’s important to normalize intimate male friendships.


	17. That's A-moron

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from that "when the moon hits your eye" song by Dean Martin

* * *

Sanji was very concerned about Zoro.

Because only a certifiable idiot couldn’t like Nami.

She was drop dead gorgeous, even when she showed up in something as classically simple as a white blouse, jeans, and gold accessories. She was whip smart, so much that Sanji was at a lost to find a subject she didn’t know about. She was so expressive when she ate, humming with delight at the cocktails and smiling from appetizer to desert.

Her dazzling smile. Her melodious voice. Her dexterous hands. Everything about her seemed hand crafted to drive him crazy, and Sanji was convinced that true love was real within minutes of opening his front door to her.

And yet.

And yet.

Sanji sat on the couch, having just delivered Nami a fresh drink to wet her throat after the story she told that involved her single-handedly saving her entire sailing team after getting caught out at sea in a hurricane. He drummed his fingers against the side of his leg, out of Nami’s view, as he wondered what to do next.

He cast a quick glance over to Nami, who seemed happy enough in the break in conversation to drink, before looking back down at his lap. He could see it happen so vividly in his mind. A lingering glance, an accidental brush, a collision of passion all culminating in a memorable night that, hopefully, would happen again and again for the rest of his life.

But.

Experience told him that, more often than not, it never actually went that smoothly. Lingering glances could be mistaken as coincidental eye contact. Accidental brushes may be interpreted as him being too forward. A collision of passion might very easily be shrugged off as a mistake the next morning. All of that loomed heavily in Sanji’s head as he wondered what to do next. He really liked this woman and, romantic or not, he found himself wanting to be included in her life. Which made it all the more crucial that he Not. Screw. This. Up.

Just when Sanji was maybe considering moving a bit closer on the couch, the doorbell echoed throughout the room, louder thanks to the silence that had been sitting between the two. Sanji remotely stood and went to the door before realizing how rude it might be to just leave his date. Just as he was praying that it was _anyone_ but Spandam, Sanji was faced with a close 2nd place for someone he didn’t want at his door.

A very pretty woman.

Now, ordinarily, Sanji would be nothing less than thrilled to have one of his beautiful acquaintances at his doorstep. But for one to visit while there was an equally stunning woman inside –one he was actively trying to romance, no less—made the interruption less than ideal.

“Vivi?” Sanji vocalized, hoping his confusion didn’t come across as anything remotely similar to disappointment at seeing his lovely friend. Her adorably sheepish smile worked wonders on his anxious heart, and he felt an easy grin stretch across his own face.

“Hello Sanji, you mentioned loaning me that pastry book and your house is on the way back from the studio, so I thought I’d stop by.” Her permissive look was so utterly gentle that Sanji felt guilty for even thinking about her poor timing.

Sanji faintly remembered that Vivi did Pilates every Saturday afternoon and supposed that since he hadn’t mentioned a Valentine’s date to her the last time they’d meet –coffee together, Sunday afternoon, two weeks ago—it made sense that she’d assume he wouldn’t be busy on what was presumably an ordinary evening. Therefore, Sanji didn’t really have any reason to turn her away. Especially not when he knew exactly which book she was talking about and could have it in her hands within a minute.

“Yes, please come in. I’ll get it in just a moment.”

He ushered her through the foyer and into the open space between the living room and kitchen, in case she wanted to talk to him while he fetched the book in question. He realized his mistake just as he was turning around, book in hand, to see Vivi and his lovely date staring at each other.

“Oh hello.” Vivi greeted, ever the polite diplomat in training. “I didn’t know Sanji had a guest. Am I interrupting?”

"You’re not interrupting anything. Please, have a seat.” Nami grinned more with her eyes than anything, and the sultry expression sent a wave of heat from his gut down to his suddenly weak knees.

Vivi didn’t seem quite so affected, though her smile did become a touch more bashfu. “I couldn’t possibly. I’ve only stopped by to borrow a cookbook.”

Nami’s eyes settled, but her grin remained as she instead stood up to close the distance between the two. “I can see why. I’ve only eaten his food once, but I can tell Sanji’s the best cook in the world.”

Sanji honestly felt happy enough to die, right then and there. How in God’s green earth could Zoro not be head over heels for a person as lovely as her?

“He really is. I’ve been borrowing his recipes for years, but they never seem to come out like his.”

Correction. Now he could die happy. Such wonderful compliments from two amazing women was enough to make him wonder whether he was still on this mortal coil. Surely something this amazing couldn’t happen in his shitty life.

Though once the exact words Vivi had spoken broke through his euphoric cloud to settle in his greater conscience, Sanji –being physically unable to pass up the opportunity to compliment a truly wonderful woman— quickly brushed aside Vivi’s modesty.

"Desserts perform like miracles when she makes them,” he told Nami. Which was entirely true. Vivi’s angel cake honestly tasted as though prepared by the servants of heaven. 

“Do you own a dessert shop?” Nami asked, leaning forward into the conversation.

Vivi blushed gracefully from the attention. “No, I’m afraid baking is just something I do with my free time. My job is really just studying to take my father’s place.”

“In what business? Local or global?”

“Oh, um, no business, I’m afraid. He’s the king of Alabasta.”

“He’s a king?” Sanji smiled at how incredibly expressive Nami’s face could be. Her shock was so visible and exaggerated, and yet so genuine. She was radiant in her honesty.

“Yes, but we’re a constitutional monarchy. Our position is more of a foreign diplomat than anything.”

“Yeah but still.” Nami’s mouth pursed and her eyes darted to the side in thought. She came to a conclusion quickly, however, and a lopsided smile and roguish wink swiftly took center stage. “So you’re a bona fide princess, huh?”

Vivi smiled, her expression contained and graceful compared to Nami’s. “I am, yes.”

“Well, that settles it then.”

“Settles what?”

“I never could resist nice things. Clothing, art, people; I’ve just got to have it. And you? You might just be the most beautiful of them all.”

Vivi blushed wildly at that.

Meanwhile Sanji could only stand there and watch the date end in disaster, as he’d fearfully expected, but in a way not even his frantic mind could have imagined.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're in the home stretch everyone~  
> I've got the final three chapters planned. If anyone really wants to read something in particular, leave a comment about it before this series ends and I'll see what I can do about having it.


	18. Broken Hearts Parade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for any mistakes in this chapter. I'm a little drunk on gin at the moment, but hey, it's what Zoro would have wanted.

* * *

“Hey,” Zoro greeted Sanji at the door, his voice a little lower than normal and his posture a little looser. The bottle in his hand indicated the day drinking had begun in earnest for the man, but Sanji couldn’t really fault him for that. After the disaster of a date yesterday, he kind of felt like getting plastered too.

He followed Zoro into the house, shutting the door behind himself before toeing off his shoes, and walked towards the -now familiar- couch Zoro was already sprawled on. Sanji smacked Zoro's leg instead of asking him to move and collapsed onto the cushions while Zoro slouched far enough to prop his feet up on the coffee table.

“So,” Sanji began as he put together his question in the most delicate way possible.

“So,” Zoro mimicked before chugging the rest of his beer.

The silence echoed between them before Zoro glanced over. “You gonna spit it out or what?”

“Why would you set me up with a lesbian?” Sanji snapped, his face burning at the memory of the event.

“Whoa now, hang on. First of all, she’s not a lesbian; she’s bi. Second, are you telling me Nami _didn’t_ go for you? Just how in the hell could you have managed to lose her when it was just the _two of you_ _in_ _your house_?”

"My friend Vivi stopped by and once she saw her, it was like I didn’t even exist.” Sanji had half a mind to bury his hand into his lap, but only the mortification of doing something like that in front of Zoro kept him upright.

The hand patting his shoulder, though, was enough to make him flinch –manly front or not.

“Sorry man, I figured you’d have an easy job ‘cuz you’re her type: all nice suits, fancy job, classy hobbies.”

Sanji chuckled. “I never stood a chance. My friend she went for? The daughter of a foreign diplomat, she could wear a cardboard box and make it haute couture.”

"What?”

“She’s high end. From her looks to her fashion to her personality. She’s radiant. Nami probably saw her and, well, it’s like comparing a lightbulb to the sun.”

“Geez man, no need to shit on yourself like that.” The hand on his shoulder disappeared, as did the presence on the couch. Zoro shortly returned, however, with a large bottle that –despite being clear—Sanji was certain wasn’t water.

“Best sake I got, so cheer the fuck up already.” Zoro chuckled a bit as he poured a glass and held it out for Sanji to take.

“Why is it that every time I come over, you try and get me drunk?”

Zoro paused, considering Sanji and then the glass in his hand.

“So you don’t want it?”

“Of course I still want it!” Sanji snapped and snatched the cup away before Zoro could take it out of his range.

It was muscle memory that led to Sanji smelling the drink, a fruity aroma with a nutty undertone that wasn’t as pronounced as that of wine, before taking a sip. The sake was smooth and went down all too easy. The faint sweetness was balanced nicely by the astringent bite, leaving behind a palate that wasn’t abused like vodka or whiskey might have done. He made a mental note to ask Zoro for the label, followed quickly by another mental note to not drink so much that he’d forget the first mental note.

“So, how was your date with Robin?” Sanji asked before taking another sip and savoring the taste. Upon receiving a date with Zoro’s friend Nami, Sanji had felt it only right to help the Mosshead set up his own Valentine’s Day date. Coincidentally, Sanji knew that Robin was between partners, and he had met enough of Robin’s exes to know that her tastes were…broad enough to not be thrown too much by Zoro’s somewhat surly attitude and punkish exterior. Maybe not a perfect match, but at least compatible enough to enjoy one date. Maybe. Possibly.

“I had fun.” Zoro replied between larger gulps of his sake.

That, despite what Sanji had been trying to convince himself, was unexpected.

“Wait, you did? So, are you going to see her again?”

“Uh, no, why would I?” Zoro seemed entirely put off with the idea, in direct contrast to his earlier statement, though Sanji was by now unsurprised by Zoro’s conflicting nature. Even if he was still annoyed.

“Because most people like to continue to have fun with the same people they’ve had fun with before.” Sanji explained, feeling like he was back at the Baratie explaining to the busboy for the umpteenth time **_not_** to leave wooden utensils in the sink because the water makes them swell.

“Yeah but, she’s dating Franky now so…” Zoro let the sentence fall in lieu of taking another drink. He seemed completely unaware of the bomb he’d just dropped, and for that, Sanji kicked at his ankle.

Zoro flinched from the assault, though he didn’t spill a drop of his liquor. He opened his mouth, likely to demand an explanation, but Sanji beat him to the punch.

“What the fuck do you mean she’s dating Franky?”

And not only that, but _how_? Valentine’s Day was only yesterday.

“Well, we went to that cultural museum on Grand Line Boulevard to see this visiting exhibit about the Wano Kingdom, and it turns out Franky was there too. They went over to look at the recreation of the aqueduct system from the Water Seven civilization and never came back.” Zoro shrugged and took another swig of sake.

“How is that fun?”

“I got to see Enma up close man. That katana is _legendary_.”

Sanji spared a glance over to the swords that hung above the cabinet to the left. There were three and looked ornamented yet not gaudy. Probably the real deal. Figured Zoro would care more about seeing some fancy sword over a date with _the_ Robin Nico. What didn’t make sense was how that same Robin Nico somehow took a look at both Zoro and Franky and had decided to go with the clothing challenged engineer.

“Was he wearing pants this time?”

"Eh, sort of.”

Sanji didn’t even want to know how a person could only _sort of_ wear pants and decided to avoid a future headache by not asking.

“Well, my condolences,” Sanji said, and clinked his glass to Zoro’s before taking a sip. He sighed as the delicious flavor soothed away every minor annoyance. Damn. It really was some good sake.

“Don’t be. I was going to see the Wano exhibit anyway, so it’s not like I wasted my time. Besides, I think Robin’ll be happy.”

“How’d you figure?”

“Look, I know Franky may seem a little weird, but he’s a great guy. Smart, knows music, plus he’s got more sex appeal than me, so-”

"Wait,” Sanji just couldn’t leave this particular future headache alone. “Now I _know_ you’re shitting me.”

“No, I’m being serious. Franky is really cool and-”

“I’m sure, but sex appeal? _Seriously_?”

"I mean, everyone’s got more sex appeal than me man.”

Sanji paused, wondering if this was a trick. Every other time he’d tried to bring up Zoro’s sexuality he’d gotten at best a non-answer and at worst prolonged shunning. Sure Zoro was the closest thing to being drunk that Sanji had ever seen, but it was still obvious that Zoro had his general wits about him. This was a conversation that was purposeful and definitely going to be remembered.

Perhaps a casual approach was best? Pretend like Zoro hadn’t even brought up a subject that Sanji had been idly wondering for months. He forced a laugh out of his mouth.

“Jeez, weren’t you the one telling me not to shit all over myself earlier?”

“I mean, yeah, but I’m not. It’s just a fact. Can’t have sex appeal if you’re not sexual.”

The sentence was a puzzle and a half to sort out, and Sanji had no idea what in the hell Zoro was even trying to say.

“Are you trying to say you don’t have sex?”

“Yeah,” Zoro said, steadily meeting Sanji’s eyes with a dangerous glint that itched some distant memory in Sanji’s head. “What about it?”

Oh yeah, that was it. That look, that voice. It was very similar to how Zoro spoke to Spandam the first time they’d met back at the the clubhouse so many months ago. To have such a glare focused on him…Sanji wasn’t afraid, not physically at least, but he was distinctly aware of how quickly things could go south. And dealing with Zoro was hard because you had to be careful not to be too careful. Pity and coddling and pussyfooting wasn’t going to earn any points with him. Sanji drummed the fingers of his left hand against his leg, out of sight of Zoro, and took the plunge.

“Nothing, so you’re a weirdo, like I didn’t already know that.”

“Tch, this coming from the Curlicue himself.”

"That’s just my point, idiot. Everyone’s a little bit of a weirdo. Ace falls asleep while eating. Luffy doesn’t have any self-preservation. Perona faints at the sight of cockroaches. Franky can’t seem to wear pants. You don’t have sex. It’s all whatever.”

Zoro paused, staring down at his drink, and nodded once. He sat up and grabbed the sake bottle with one swift motion. He topped off Sanji’s glass before topping off his own and clinked their cups together.

It wasn’t much, but Sanji liked to think he understood what it meant, and the sake felt a little warmer when he drank it down.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As much as I love a good ZoSan/SanZo, Zoro shall always be, in my heart of hearts, an asexual. And Sanji and Zoro will always be, first and foremost, bros.
> 
> Also, writing Nico Robin's name in the Americanized order makes me cringe. I am sorry, but I had to adhere to the American format for this AU.


	19. It's My Party And I'll Plot Revenge If I Want To

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter is basically just a set-up for the finale, but I was really struggling with it. Turns out, all I needed was one super boring seminar for work and BOOM started writing this instead of paying attention. Um. I mean. I wrote this while I was paying attention. Yep. Mhm.
> 
> That is to say, I'm still not 100% okay with it, but I really gotta get a move on with this story. So, voila~

* * *

The party had just started when Sanji opened his front door to see Zoro at a level of intoxication that both surprised and impressed him.

“Pre-game master over here,” Ace crowed as he slung an arm around Zoro’s shoulder and slapped Zoro’s right pec with the hand that dangled over his chest. Zoro beamed as though this were an actual title with perks and stepped confidently into the house. Sanji shut the door, a bit dumbfounded by just how widely Zoro could smile, and looked up to see Ace corralling Zoro through the hallway towards the kitchen. A bit curious, and worried that Ace might fall asleep while walking, Sanji followed them.

He entered the kitchen in time to hear Ace urge Zoro to eat something carb heavy with a seamless sort of grace that bellied long-term experience. Sanji watched from the kitchen entrance as Ace smoothly switched out a glass of vodka with water while Zoro was distracted by the plate of miniature quiches Ace had shoved into Zoro’s face.

“March is a tough month for him.” Ace murmured just before Zoro realized, and vocalized, halfway through the drink that it wasn’t actually the vodka he’d poured. Ace apologized with a cheeky grin and gave Zoro a different cup. A rum and coke.

 _Virgin rum and coke_ , he’d mouthed at Sanji before popping the top off a bottle of beer. He even went through the charade of cheers with Zoro to continue the façade. Ace urged Zoro to eat some of the tuna poke, which Zoro –after a tentative taste— scooped a bowlful and ate with relish.

“Shit,” Sanji muttered while Zoro was distracted. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have invited him if I’d-”

Ace cut him off with a head shake and blasé wave of his beer-free hand. “Nah, it’s actually good to get him out of the house. Otherwise he’d just suffice on guilt and alcohol until mid-April or so.”

Ace made another virgin cocktail for Zoro once he’d polished off his rum and coke, sans rum. 

“Doesn’t he have work tonight?” Sanji asked, watching the way Zoro’s footsteps, while steady, were a bit extra. Small, quick, unnecessary adjustments to his footing. Almost fidgeting, but without the nervous energy to back it up.

“He saves most of his vacation days for this time of year, but I called Kidd anyways to make sure. He’s pretty happy for the overtime, so it’s a win-win.” Ace smiled before chugging most of his beer in one swing.

“Hey, hey Eyebrow.” Zoro slapped a hand onto Sanji’s shoulder, his grip slack but heavy. “This’s your birthday, right?”

“That’s right,”

“And ya didn’t tell me?”

“I just did.”

“But, but not before.”

“What, you want my social and mother’s maiden name too?” Sanji teased.

Zoro’s face pinched into an exaggerated scowl. “No,” he almost sounded disgusted and Sanji barely managed to bite down the laugh but not the smile.

“’m serious,” Zoro growled, squeezing his hand and making Sanji’s shoulder ache from the pressure. His brow grew all the more furrowed and his frown became all the more pitched when faced with Sanji’s burgeoning levity, and the contrast just made Sanji all the more entertained.

“I didn’t get ya a gift, cuz I didn’t know.” Zoro somehow made it sound like both an apology and an accusation. Sanji would have applauded him if he weren’t already well familiar with Zoro’s strange ability to combine contrasting tones. Now it was simply par for the course.

“Well,” he placed his hand on Zoro’s and surreptitiously tried to pry his fingers off, but to no avail. “You didn’t tell me about your birthday, Mosshead, so call us eve-” Sanji nearly bit his tongue mid-word as Zoro shook him a few times.

"We’re friends now. I gotta get ya a gift. Whaddaya want?”

“I don’t know,” Sanji laughed, the shaking having finally loosened all the childish amusement he’d held so politely in his chest.

“Whaddaya want?” No longer being shaken, Sanji was struck but the sudden stillness Zoro had taken on. No more extra little footsteps. No more random twitches in the fingers. No more unnecessary, fluttering blinks.

He met Zoro’s seriousness with his own, even if the remanent chuckles of his earlier laughter wouldn’t have indicated so, and carefully considered the question. As usual, though, he really wasn’t for want of anything. The only things he really wanted were things he couldn’t have (e.g. a happy childhood), had yet to achieve (e.g. his own restaurant), was left up to fate (e.g. finding the love of his life), or just completely out of his control (e.g. no more HOA).

But God wouldn’t that be something? If only it were that easy. Just blow out the candles and suddenly have the warm, loving family he’d seen on tv instead of the shit-show he’d barely managed to escape. Or if a simple wish could have him waking up with the keys to a restaurant, built exactly as he’d imagined it since he could reach the stovetop without a stool. If waking up next to his wife and sneaking out of bed to help his kids make her a surprise breakfast could be achieved as easily as a gift card. And the HOA. Oh man. The real frustration was perhaps in this one. Because out of all the wishes he could make, this one was the most feasible. The most likely to actually fucking happen and yet, somehow, just as unlikely.

The silence was stretching way too damn long though, so Sanji met Zoro’s plaintive stare and just spoke his mind.

“I want Spandam gone.”

“Okay,”

_What?_

The hand was gone, and Zoro was chugging his drink. Ace had wandered off to, oh no wait, he was just sleeping in the middle of the hallway. Regardless, Sanji stepped around Zoro to fix him another “drink”; one with lots of mixers and a strong zest of lemon to throw him off.

When Zoro took the glass, he smiled in thanks, Sanji only felt numb; still shaken as he was by the casual ease with which Zoro had met his impossible request.

“This sucks.”

“Zoro, are you serious?”

“Yeah, is there even any alcohol in this?”

Sanji didn’t really have it in him to stop Zoro from adding some rum to the drink, but did manage to cut in after nearly two shots worth had been poured.

“No, about Spandam.” Sanji said as he set the rum bottle down, out of Zoro’s reach. “About getting rid of him.”

“Yeah,” Zoro had been slurring since he’d gotten to the party, but he still managed to sound like _Sanji_ was the incoherent idiot. “It’s your birthday. I got it.”

“What do you mean, _you got it_?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, Curlicue.”

“If you _got it_ then why haven’t you _got it_ earlier?”

“’ts a lotta work,” Zoro swayed and leaned against the countertop, the first example of unsteady footing Sanji had ever seen from the man. His fingers twitched with the urge to snatch the drink from Zoro’s hand, but Sanji was all too aware that Zoro was an adult who could make his own decisions and worried the conversation might digress into a pointless argument if he did so.

“I need stuff,” Zoro clarified before taking a long sip from his glass.

“Stuff.”

“Mhm,” Zoro nodded and swallowed a belch. “Yeah, but I got stuff now.”

“ _Oh my God,_ ” Sanji murmured under his breath.

Zoro nodded, though Sanji really doubted that he’d heard him.

“Is Nami’s girlfriend here? The royal princess lady?”

“Redundant titles aside, yes, Vivi is here. Why do you ask?”

“The stuff,” Zoro nodded, utterly assure in his –supposed— coherency. “The plan.”

“No, no Zoro. No plan. Not today. Go play a game or something, alright? And easy on the drinks.” Suddenly emboldened, perhaps by the repeated evidence of how drunk Zoro actually was, Sanji took the glass from his grip and poured it down the sink. Zoro frowned, but didn’t object.

“Look, I appreciate your, um, gift. Really. But for today, let’s not talk about Spandam, alright? I don’t want him anywhere near my birthday, even if it’s for plotting his eminent demise. Can you do that for me?”

Zoro nodded once, slowly, then a few more times as he accepted the idea. “Alright, two gifts then.”

“Right,” Sanji chuckled. “Two gifts. I’m so lucky.”

“Yes.” Zoro agreed, “Y’should be. I’m a great friend.”

“Mhm,” Sanji hummed as he led Zoro, carefully stepping over Ace’s prone body as they went, towards the living room where most of the others were.

“The best friend.” Zoro added, his voice tentative but still loud enough to demand an acknowledgement. Which Sanji gave with a chuckle and a nod.

“Right.”

“Really?”

“Yeah Zoro. Really really.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Literally me during the meeting: Ah, how should I end this chapter? Oh, how about a Shrek reference? Perfect.


	20. Mission Possible

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year's y'all!  
> So…turns out this isn’t the end. I started writing and it was just suddenly too long for one chapter so, well, now we’re looking at two. Sorry fam.

* * *

On the second Saturday in April, Sanji found himself outside Zoro’s front door. It had been decided that the meeting, involving whom exactly Sanji still didn’t know beyond a few of his own friends, would take place at his house since a large gathering would look less suspicious in his driveway. Though Sanji really didn’t like what that implied about his social life to say so.

It still felt weird to enter Zoro’s house without knocking, though Zoro had been adamant in Sanji doing so because it was, quote ‘ _a real pain in the ass to keep answering the door for him every time’_ end-quote. Because of this, Zoro was preoccupied when Sanji let himself in and entered the living room.

He was kneeling in front of the cabinet that sat beneath the swords on the wall, its doors open for the first time Sanji had ever been at the house. Inside were two picture frames, housing an older man and a young girl respectively, two urns, and a small pedestal with a lit stick of incense.

Zoro knelt before the homemade alter, head bowed and hands clasped together, and Sanji immediately knew to avoid him for the time being. Instead, he headed towards the kitchen, where the counter space was unusually cluttered with empty bottles and the sink full of dirty dishes.

Sanji rolled up his sleeves and was elbow deep in soapy water before he’d even realized what he was doing. The dishes in the sink were bulky though, making it seem fuller that it really was, and was empty within twenty minutes. With everything balanced on either the drying rack of the stovetop, Sanji focused on clearing and wiping down the counters and table. It was when he was coming back inside after taking the recyclables out –unsure what to do with the bag since the designated receptacle was full and opted to throw it in the bed of Zoro’s truck— that he saw Zoro on the couch and the cabinet doors closed. The only hint as to what had happened being the slight odor of smoke wafting through the house.

Sanji felt the weight of something he couldn’t quite name settling in the air and fidgeted as he tried to figure out whether to ask and what even to ask.

“How long ago?” Was eventually what he settled on.

“Kuina died when we were kids.” Zoro grumbled. “Late March. Dad passed away just a few years ago around the same time of year. Cancer.”

Sanji couldn’t think of an appropriate response, so he just bit his lip, missing the weight of a cigarette that incentivized a closed mouth. He drummed his fingers across the spotless countertop beside him.

“So what’re you doing here so early?” Zoro asked, though he didn’t sound angry about the fact. More confused than anything.

Sanji shrugged, staring at the way his fingers started unintentionally tracing the groove of the countertop tile.

“It just seemed kind of rude. Leaving you to prepare to host all by yourself. Thought I’d come by and see if I could help with that.”

Zoro’s loud snort drew him away from the counter. “What? You wanna make a cheese platter for them or something? I can’t say anything about your friends, but for mine having full access to my fridge is more than they deserve. Trust me.”

So Sanji capitulated to Zoro’s decision, seeing as it was his house and all, and he sat back to watch everyone arrive. Nami was the first, with Vivi at her side. Without any hesitancy in her step, she headed straight for Zoro’s liquor cabinet and, despite all his complaining, didn’t stop Nami from accessing his wet bar. Though the Old Fashioned she passed him a few minutes later was maybe the reason. She gave one of the two Bee’s Knees to Vivi along with a quick kiss. Sanji received a Manhattan, san kiss, that was a bit stronger than he was used to, but delicious enough for the thought behind it.

Next to arrive was Franky, dragging along Luffy and another teenager Sanji didn’t recognize. The young teenager stood awkwardly beside the couch, fidgeting and looking for all the world like he was here against his will. Meanwhile, Luffy yanked open with the fridge with an enthusiastic whoop and rummaged around before finding some leftovers to scarf down. While Luffy was eating, the fridge door still open as he grabbed more food, Franky leaned over his shoulder to pull out two colas. He handed one to the unknown teenager as he headed for the living room couch.

Then Robin came in with a gentle knock on the front door. Or at least Sanji assumed she’d knocked. One moment he was trying to keep Luffy from choking on a chicken bone then next he saw Robin placing a soft peck on Franky’s cheek as she sat beside him on the couch. And no, Sanji wasn’t jealous at all. Nope. No siree.

Usopp arrived a little over five minutes later. Unlike Robin, he entered in a flurry of animated movements, gesticulating wildly as he apologized for being so late and asking about what he’d missed and nearly in tears after misreading Zoro’s normal face as an ‘ _I’m super pissed and will end you_ ’ expression. Sanji sat him on a barstool with a glass of cold water to settle him.

Zoro was setting up a whiteboard in the living room when the doorbell rang. Wary, since none of the other guests thus far had done so, Sanji approached the door and carefully opened it. The person in front of him was not Spandam, as he’d feared, nor a mutual acquaintance, as he’d expected.

“Hello, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Brook. And you are?”

“I’m Sanji,”

“Nice to meet you,” Brook said, grabbing Sanji’s hand and shaking it once before stepping over the threshold.

Now Brook. Brook was a tall motherfucker. And while Sanji wasn’t one to ordinarily use that particular curse word, he really saw no other way to encapsulate just how _tall_ the man was. Beyond his height, Brook had ambiguously dark skin that could have been from any number of ethnic origins, though the giant afro sitting atop his head led Sanji to assume some amount of African heritage was involved. His smile was big, almost a grimace if it weren’t for the utter delight in his eyes that offset the manic level of grinning. And he was dressed in an old fashioned, but well-tailored suit. Sanji made sure to compliment the man on his cravat as they walked towards the living room together.

“Alright, listen up,” Zoro said as he clapped his hands thrice. “I called you all here today to bring down Spandam. Guy’s been a pain in our ass for too long so it’s ‘bout time we put a stop to it.”

The motley crew assembled in the living room gave a mixed reaction of agreements and cheers and one particularly vehement ‘yeah, fuck that guy’ from Nami.

“Alright, so, the plan’s got four phases. We’re going to go over them, assign roles, iron out the details, and carry it out tomorrow. That sound good?”

The general consensus in the room was affirmative, so Zoro moved on by writing a big **#1** on the board, followed by **fake business**.

“For Phase One, we’re going to pose as a some business and have Spandam, on record, making a contract for the neighborhood that financially benefits him. According to Nami, that’s apparently a thing Presidents aren’t supposed to do when hiring companies on behalf of the HOA. Usopp, we’ll need to us some of your filming equipment to covertly record the conversation. Robin and Vivi, you’ll be the business people.”

“Me?” Vivi asked with incredulity while Robin just smiled as if thinking _well of course me_.

“Yeah, you’ve got the credentials to make this thing seem real. Don’t worry about lying, Robin’ll handle that.”

“Wouldn’t Nami-” Vivi bit her words back, perhaps deciding that it wasn’t the best idea to accuse her girlfriend of being a skilled swindler to a room full of people.

Nami, however, caught enough and smirked under the praise. “As much as I’d love to give that asshole the run around, he already knows me from helping this idiot get out of fines.” Nami jerked her thumb over to Zoro, who nodded once, as she proudly declared her subterfuge.

Zoro then wrote **#2 big distraction** and capped the marker.

“Okay, so once Robin and Vivi have Spandam on record making the deal, that’s when we move on to Phase Two and get him out of the way for a bit.”

“Oh! I know! Why don’t we just get a metal pipe and just,” Franky clicked his teeth while miming a bat swing, “put him out of commission for a bit.”

“Franky, no, this isn’t gonna be like Memorial Day three years ago,”

“I told you, Zoro-bro, that was an accident.”

"Yeah? Well your _accident_ had one hell of a backswing. No. _Luffy’s_ gonna distract Spandam.”

“Me?” Luffy asked, perking up immediately at the great honor that’d been bestowed upon him.

“Yes, you. You think you can distract Spandam long enough?”

Luffy smiled, big and bright, and everyone else in the room felt just a little stupider for considering such an obvious question.

“Don’t worry! Chopper and I’ll keep him busy.” Luffy promised as he slung an arm around the neck of the quiet teenager who’d finally been coerced to sit on the couch a few minutes ago.

“Hey. Don’t get Chopper dragged into anything illegal.” Zoro warned. “He’s gonna be applying to med school soon, he can’t have any of that dumb shit on his record.”

“Pre-med school,” Chopper murmured from where Luffy’s arm was nearly strangling him. Luffy let go with an insincere apology as Chopper cleared his throat.

“Same difference,” Zoro waved off before turning back to the whiteboard.

“Hold on,” Sanji interjected, holding out his arm to prevent Zoro from moving on to the next phase. He kept his eyes firmly on Luffy, however, as the boy rocked aimlessly in his seat as though this weren’t a mission of the highest importance. “Just what exactly _do_ you have in mind, Luffy?”

"What’s it matter?” Luffy asked, no longer rocking but with head tilted at near 90° angle.

“ _Because_ ,” Sanji bit out, trying to ignore how Luffy decided that this exact moment was the right time to start picking his nose, “as a team we need to know what everyone is doing so we can prepare any contingencies.”

“But you’re a chef, right? Don’t you have enough already?”

…

“CONTINGENCIES, NOT CONDIMENTS!”

“It means plan b,” Zoro explained while Sanji practically chewed on his –tragically— unlit cigarette.

“The stuff Nami keeps in her-” Luffy was interrupted by a harsh slap to the back of his head by the woman in question.

“We’re talking about backup plans!” She snapped while Luffy bounced his head back up like his neck was a rubber band.

“Ah, so like, a secret plan.”

“It’s _not_ a secret, you know what, sure. A secret plan. But we need to know exactly what you’re going to do to distract Spandam so we can plan it.” Sanji said as he stabbed his chewed to hell cigarette onto an empty plate and pulled out another, hoping the plain tobacco alone would be enough to assuage his rapidly mounting headache.

“Okay, so like, I was going to knock on Spandam’s door and then before he answers it, I’m gonna run away.”

"Your plan is to ding-dong-ditch the guy?” Sanji spat while he caught Zoro face-palming – honest to god slapping his own face— to the side.

“Yeah,” Luffy cackled. “He’s gonna be so pissed about getting up to answer the door, but no one’s there.”

“If no one’s there, why would he leave the house?”

“Huh,” Luffy paused, perching his chin between thumb and forefinger in deep thought. Before the smoke could start pouring from his ears though, Franky clapped his hand on the boy’s shoulder and flicked his sunglass onto the top of his head.

“Don’t worry,” he promised the group. “I gotta surefire way to make Spandam chase after him.”

His other hand came down on Chopper’s shoulder, dwarfing the poor kind underneath the large grip, and he patted each shoulder twice. Chopper squeaked softly and nearly folded underneath the weight.

“Hm, a way that don’t involve plumbing equipment?” Zoro asked while Franky beamed a bit too wide to be trustworthy.

“Don’t worry. I promise we won’t touch the guy. But we **are** gonna go old school with this one.” Franky leaned in closer to the two young men and smirked. “Just follow your big bro’s lead.”

With Franky being only slightly more reliable than Luffy, Sanji was still averse to leaving the topic alone. But a quick headshake from Zoro and a commiserating shrug from Robin prompted him to move on. He wrote **#3 BETHANY** in big letters, paused, and underlined it.

“Phase Three is you Brooke. I’m sorry, but your job is to run interference with Bethany.”

Nearly the entire room winced in sympathy while Brooke glanced around at the eerily synchronous echo.

“I take it this is a dangerous task?” He asked, his voice delicate but curious.

“Not dangerous, well, maybe a little, but mostly unpleasant.” Sanji decided to answer while the rest of the group was trying to either tiptoe around the fact or properly articulate just what Bethany exactly was.

“Oh, well you know what they say, nothing ventured nothing gained.”

“That’s the spirit,” Sanji replied, at least trying to be a little supportive of the poor guy.

“Well, when you’re an old pile of bones like me, spirit’s all you’ve got left.” And he suddenly cackled heartily, leaving Sanji a bit lost in the conversation.

“Brooke, that was barely even a joke,” Zoro sighed and rapped the board with his marker, where he’d just written **#4 paper trail**. “Listen, Phase Four. While Bethany is distracted upstairs with Brooke, Robin and Vivi’ll let Nami in through the back and they’ll search his office for paperwork.”

“What kind of paperwork?” Vivi asked.

“Presumably bank statements connecting him to previous illegal dealings.” Robin guessed with a finality that made it more of a statement.

“Yes, but also-” Zoro queued Nami with a point of the uncapped marker, to which Nami smirked.

“Evidence to last April’s Homo Association and last year’s Fourth of July Pool Mishap.”

Zoro nodded, as did Franky, but a quick glance around the room showed Sanji that almost everyone else was as confused as him.

“I’m sorry, did you say _Homo_ Association?” Vivi asked, her hand politely raised halfway into the air.

“Yeah, Spandam basically strong armed this gay couple from moving into the neighborhood by blasting them with so many fines and double standards.” Nami spat, nearly making Sanji’s head spin from the fantastically adroit way in which she had switched from teasing to venomous on a dime.

“Man, what a dick,” Usopp added, and everyone nodded because there really was no better way to phrase it.

“And what happened at the pool?” Luffy asked, practically bouncing in his seat.

“Luffy, you were **at** the pool mishap. You remember? When someone shat in the pool and they had to close it down in the middle of the Fourth of July party?” Nami huffed.

“Ohhhhh yeah,” Luffy sang. “What does that have to do with Spandam?”

“Luffy,” Zoro groaned as he looked to the ceiling as if more patience was stored in the rafters. “It was him.”

“But, I thought they said it was one of the kids?”

“I mean, that’s what they _say_ , but Wyper told me that the turd had been way too big to have come from a baby. And that it was floating in that same corner that Spandam and all his old HOA bastards always hang around in.”

“Um, excuse me, Zoro, uh, how is this relevant to what we’re doing?” Vivi asked.

“Nothing, it’s just fucking funny and I want everyone to know about it.” Zoro snickered before turning back to the board and writing **Smoker books him**. He circled the conclusion thrice and punctuated it with a snap of the cap back on the marker.

“Now, let’s get to work.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly. I feel for Wyper so much because I used to be a lifeguard at an HOA-run neighborhood (low-key the inspiration for this entire fic) and I had to deal with so many things like “fecal contamination” (which we reported at “incidents” because we had to sugar-coat things I guess). Other fun things I had to deal with:  
> \- old people who always sat in the same corner telling me to tell kids to be less rowdy  
> \- same old people getting balls banned (because they’d gotten hit by a beach ball or something)  
> \- people tattling to the HOA about us swimming in the pool when there weren’t any guests because ‘we weren’t a part of the neighborhood (they’d watched us from back porch)  
> \- cleaning up virtually all manner of body fluids (all while parents lied to my face about ‘totally having put a swim diaper on their baby’)  
> I haven’t even worked there for three years and I still gotta vent about it sometimes. Sorry.


End file.
